Shelter From The Storm
by lady leonid
Summary: Set six years in the future, two long estranged brothers meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One is stranded far from his home and family and one is headed home, wanting only to be alone on the last day of the year. He offers his brother shelter
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One is stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter One

He moved briskly through the crowded concourse, his satchel slung over one shoulder and his cell phone held to his ear with his free hand. He was, as always, in a hurry. Due to the weather, his plane was late and his driver was probably waiting. But just as quickly as his frantic rush began, it ended. Eric was going to be late due to the same blizzard that was shutting down the airport, stranding hundreds of passengers, forcing them to either sleep in uncomfortable plastic chairs or make whatever arrangements they could. It was New York City and it was New Year's Eve, good luck to them, he thought.

He was glad to be home. He could easily have wound up diverted to another city where he would sit until the weather improved, not a prospect he relished. And he was grateful to Libby and her balls of steel. Personally, he rarely used his status as a famous writer and almost never played the VIP card. He couldn't stand people who traded on their so-called celebrity to browbeat their way ahead of others. His agent, on the other hand, wasn't at all shy about dropping his name to get the special treatment she felt he deserved. She would not hear of his fighting for a cab with the _rabble_ (her words, not his) or waiting his turn for a town car. She had called the car service and demanded his usual driver AND that they retrieve him ASAP. Libby Bartlett knew her client all too well. She wisely never left her most profitable author to his own devices for very long. God knows where he'd wonder off to or who he's wind up talking with! He might be a genius but sometimes his presence of mind just was not there. She liked to make sure he was never without a herder for very long.

Usually the always polite ex-college professor hated it when Libby pulled her queen bitch act with people, but on this day, he truly appreciated his agent's overzealous efforts on his behalf. Normally, if he had to crash at an airport, he'd just pull out his laptop and work or he'd talk with the people around him. He could always find someone interesting that he could use as fodder for his next book. But it was New Year's Eve, a tough night for him. He wanted to be home and, thanks to Libby, he soon would be. He had dinner reservations at a small Italian place near his apartment, a chilled bottle of Pierre Jouet and a fireplace. He would curl up on his couch with a good book (not one of his own) and settle in for the evening. He would take a few calls from good friends and his father, but for most part he would be alone and that was how he preferred to spend New Year's Eve—alone.

He slowed his pace. Eric was still stuck in the gridlock surrounding the airport so there was no need to hurry. He could catch his breath and grab a cup of coffee before the Starbucks shut down as well. He glanced at his watch and smiled. If Eric wasn't delayed for too long, he should be able to get home and relax for a while before dinner. It looked like his quiet New Years was going to come off without a hitch— and then he approached Starbucks and froze in his tracks.

At first he was certain that his eyes had to be playing tricks on him, he had just come off a really bad flight after all. He was probably over-tired. And then he tried to convince himself that he was just seeing a doppelganger and that he couldn't possibly be seeing what he thought he was seeing. But as he slowly approached the familiar figure all doubts were removed. He would know that voice anywhere. For the first time in many years, he was looking at his older brother. He glanced towards heaven. "Good one." He whispered.

He took a moment to take in his estranged older sibling. His dark hair was touched by a few gray strands, _'kids will do that to you'_ he thought, but his figure was just as lean and his stance just as straight as ever. He was a man with a problem, a man marooned far from home and he was angry. The writer smiled. Nothing new there, his brother had always been a bit of a grump. He stood just outside the coffee shop, a cup in one hand speaking in his most demanding, curt, sometimes rude G-Man voice. "John, you cannot leave me stranded at the freaking airport, I need a room, NOW!" He shouted nearly spilling his coffee as he forcefully waved his arm.

"Yeah, you and everyone else around you," the younger man whispered shaking his head and pondered the wisdom of making hasty retreat before he was spotted.

What the hell was Don doing here anyway? Well, no matter. It really wasn't his problem. Six years of utter, icy and total silence had left him feeling no obligation to offer any assistance whatsoever. He should just skip the coffee turn around and walk away. That is exactly what he SHOULD do. But, asshole or not, this man was his brother and he did have a problem. '_Yeah and all he has to do is find a cozy corner to crash in like every other stranded traveler from here to freaking Chicago. It's not like anyone is going to shoot him, hell so he's uncomfortable for a day or so. Big deal! It's freaking Kennedy, not some god forsaken mountain in the middle of some freaking war zone. He has no idea what real discomfort is!'_

But his father's voice whispered in his ear, _'Son, he's your brother! You have to help him. It's what we do.'_

_'No, screw him. He once made a promise to me, Dad! He swore he would never turn his back on me that he would always love me and nothing I could do would change that. He lied, Dad. I owe him nothing.' _ He turned and began walking away.

But Alan Eppes wouldn't leave him alone. His persistent voice once again echoed in his ears, this time louder, _'CHARLES EDWARD EPPES, I TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN THAT!" _

_'And if he throws my gesture back in my face, then what, Dad?_ He sighed, and answered his own question. Then he would know for sure and he would never try again.

He stopped his march towards baggage pick-up, turned and stood in silence watching his brother for a minute longer. He remembered the last words this man had said to him. He had been standing in the fading light of the garage, home after more than a year in a hell no one could even begin to imagine. His father and his friends had ascended the stairs leaving him alone with his older brother. Don stood apart staring at him with cold, distant eyes.

"So, you're alive," Don had said.

"For the most part," had been his reply.

Don had turned his back and walked up the stairs leaving him alone in the dark and they never spoke again. They had never even been in the same room again, not in six long, bitter years. Now he was only a few yards away and Charlie was totally pissed with himself that after all these years and all he had accomplished, the sight of his big brother still hurt and worse, he was still intimidated by the very sound of his voice.

_'Look at you, you big wuss! You've faced enemies that make anything he's come up against look like a kindergarten class. You've crawled through mud, trudged through snow up to your ass while some fucking bastards tried to blow your head off. You've traversed snake and crocodile infested rivers and hiked across every continent on the globe. Last year you climbed Kilimanjaro for God's sake! Why are you letting your asshole big brother spook you? Get it together man! If he rejects you, well, you've been rejected by better than him!' _ Charlie bit his lip and slowly moved towards the man standing with his back to him, a mobile phone clasped to his ears, gesturing wildly as he shouted at some poor soul on the other end.

"I understand about the bad weather; I understand that it's New Year's Eve. Do YOU understand that I would have been out of here yesterday if YOU had not insisted I stay another day and give a lecture to your new agents on…? Don't interrupt me, John, I…hello, hello— you bastard, you did not just hang up on me!" He started to redial the number.

And that was when Charlie dug up the courage to make his move. "Don, you seem to have a problem." He said and his brother whirled around to face him, a look of complete shock on his already red face.

For a second, the FBI agent said nothing. He just stared, his mouth slightly opened, his eyes wide. "Charlie!" He said softly. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Charlie answered. "I just flew in from L.A. What are you doing here?"

"The New York Field Office asked me to help train some new agents in…never mind, I guess that really doesn't concern you." He looked away for a moment. "You look well, Charlie." He said awkwardly.

"So do you." Charlie shuffled his feet and looked down. He could not believe how hard it was to talk with a man who had once been such an important part of his life.

"Well, a little grayer on top, but thanks." Don was finding it hard to look into his brother's face.

Charlie could almost smell the apprehension in the man. When they were younger, they had had a tenuous relationship at best, but it had never been this uncomfortable. Charlie began to believe he had made a mistake. He should have followed his initial gut feeling and left without ever speaking that first word to his brother.

"So, how are Robin and the kids?" He asked.

"Fine, Justin brought the flu home from school so of course all of us got sick, but that's part of having kids I guess." He ran his hand through his hair. "Ahhh, it was nice seeing you again, but I'm kind of stuck and I'm trying to get the Bureau to set me up in a hotel for the night and…"

"Of course, sorry to interrupt," Charlie said quickly. "It was good to see you, Don. Have a safe trip." He turned and started to walk away, then rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. He turned back around. "Look, considering the weather and the fact that it's New Years Eve, not even God much less the FBI could get you so much as a cab much less a room so…"

He stammered and nearly stopped when he saw THAT look cross Don's face but then he recalled a couple of years earlier, crossing a river in Africa up to his armpits in rushing water, muck and snakes with his camera held above his head while Mike yelled at him to hurry, Will laughed his ass off and Big Gus held on to the neck of his shirt so he didn't get washed away. Making this offer to Don couldn't be as difficult as that damned safari had been. Well—maybe it was just as difficult. No, maybe it was far more difficult.

All the damned river could do was drown him. This man could tear his heart out with a few choice words. He cleared his throat. "Don, I have a car coming and I have a guest room. I'd be glad to put you up until the weather clears and you can get a flight out." And he immediately regretted his words. Don's eyes narrowed and Charlie was sure he was about to be ripped a new one.

His brother shook his head, "Thanks for the offer but I don't think that's such a good idea." He said softly.

_'Score one more for big brother.' _ Charlie thought. Well, he had tried, now he was done. He nodded and shifted his bag. "Okay then. Say hello to Dad for me and give my love to Robin and the kids." He turned and began walking away. Then he stopped. He had one last offer to make. "I have beer." He said without turning around.

"Stella?" Don asked after an awkward pause.

"Yeah—Stella." Charlie looked over his shoulder at his brother.

Don looked at the crowd around him. Some passengers were on cell phones in desperate but futile efforts to find rooms; some had given up and had found places to settle in for the duration. Among the noisy throng were at least two crying babies, one bickering couple and a woman with a high nasal voice. She was in full whine at a decibel that was giving the headache prone agent a migraine. Three kids totally ignored by their oblivious parents, ran by nearly slamming into the FBI agent causing him to spill his coffee. They had the nerve to look at him as if HE was at fault. He looked at his younger brother who only lifted his eyebrows as if to ask, _'Well, are you coming big brother or had you rather stay here?'_

He sighed, picked up his bag and joined his brother, all the while knowing he could be making the mistake of a lifetime. They had parted on the worst of terms and time had certainly NOT healed all wounds. If anything, it had exacerbated them. Charlie was a stranger now, a stranger he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Don was all too aware that at some level he had never forgiven his kid brother for all the pain he had caused all those years ago and that right or wrong, he was still angry. He was also aware that another part of him was totally indifferent towards this man he had once dearly loved and that indifference was in many ways worse than anger. But over-shadowing his complicated emotions where his brother was concerned was the fact that he was tired and his back really did not want to try and sleep in a hard plastic chair among hundreds of strangers.

And besides, Charlie had Stella.

T.B.C.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Two

The drive from the airport to the City was hardly a Sunday walk in the park for either Eppes man. After Charlie picked up his bag, they stood lost in an uncomfortable silence waiting for the town car. Nearly an hour passed, during which the two brothers found themselves scanning the immediate vicinity for a way of escaping their awkward situation. Just when the tension was becoming unbearable and Charlie felt he was in real danger of spontaneously bursting out in nervous laughter, he spotted a short, heavy-set, balding man pushing his way through the surging horde. He grabbed Charlie's well-worn Louis Vuitton bag and his satchel as he breathlessly apologized for being late.

"Eric, don't worry about it. I'm just sorry Libby drug you away from your family on a day like this." Charlie said smiling, "Oh, by the way, this is my brother, Don. He'll be staying with me until the weather clears. Don, this is Eric Peterson, probably the best driver in the city, bar none."

"That's very kind of you to say, Dr. C! This is the FBI agent? It's good to meet you sir." He said with a smile, never slowing his pace as the three of them bounded towards the parking garage.

"It's nice to meet you." Don said taking quick long strides. As he rushed to keep up with the two smaller men, he recalled how, even though Charlie was shorter than the rest of the team, he could move at a fast clip. Granger once accused him of having an Evenrude strapped to his ass. They would be winding their way along a crowded street and suddenly the mathematician was nowhere to be seen. They would look for him, concerned, and there he would be, patiently waiting for them at the corner, hands clasped behind his back, acting totally nonplused that anyone would be upset with him for rushing ahead.

"Sorry about the walk but with the airport closing, the traffic is backed up practically to Jersey. It was faster if I parked and we walked to the car." Eric said as the trio rushed across the parking lot to a black town car.

"I'm just glad to be getting home. It's been a crazy four days and the flight home was a nightmare." Charlie said with a tired smile.

Eric tossed the bags in the trunk of the car. The professional driver held the back door open until Charlie climbed in. He gently closed it and rushed to the other side to repeat the process for Don. Finally, his passengers securely on board, he climbed behind the wheel and the nerve-wracking drive to the City began. The two brothers glanced at each other, as the car pulled out of the garage then they nervously looked out opposite windows, neither one of them able to come up with one word to say. Finally, Don broke the thick silence as he took out his cell phone and hit speed dial. "I guess I had better call Robin and let her know there is no way I'm making it home today." He said.

Charlie only nodded and resumed staring out the window. He made a concerted effort not to listen to the conversation between his brother and his wife, a task that proved impossible considering Don's close proximity. He tried drowning out the conversation by mentally going over the last four days of meetings. He was marginally successful but there was one thing he couldn't help but notice. There was one glaring omission in his assurances to his worried wife. Even as Don promised Robin that he would be home as soon as he could get a flight out and that he had found a safe place to stay, he neglected to mention that the 'safe place' was his younger brother's apartment.

That same younger brother leaned his head back against the car seat, closed his eyes and absently touched the gold band on the third finger of his left hand. Even in first class, it had been a very long, awful flight. He knew he had a ton of messages on his cell and probably on his house phone as well, but most of them could wait. Almost everyone who mattered in his life knew this was a difficult time of year for him and gave him his space. If he didn't respond for a few days, his real friends would understand, the others didn't matter.

The drive from the airport to the Upper West Side was never fun but with the traffic, the weather and the wall of tension in the car, the trip seemed to take twice as long as usual. Charlie was beginning to wonder if he had made a monumental mistake in asking his big brother to stay. After all, they hadn't seen each other in almost six years. They had very little in common and he couldn't imagine what they were going to talk about, if they talked at all. He could probably get Libby to find a hotel room for him somewhere. His publisher and his management firm all kept rooms reserved for visiting dignitaries, though they had more than likely been booked months ago.

He supposed if he whined loud enough, stomped his little feet and played the spoiled VIP, he could get them to do something _—ANYTHING _to find a room for Don, but it was too late for that now. He had opened his big mouth and he was stuck. Well, maybe it wouldn't be too bad. They would go out for dinner, which would take up a couple of hours. If they talked, they could keep the conversation to casual things like their dad or their work. Knowing Don, he would probably retire early so he didn't have to spend too much time trying to make polite conversation with a younger brother he had renounced years ago. Don was never good at that kind of thing. He had many virtues, but making small talk and flashing phony smiles with people he did not care for was definitely not among them.

As for himself, Charlie supposed he could forgo his usual New Years Eve on the couch and retire to his room early. In the morning he could probably come up with enough excuses to hide in his office so even if his brother couldn't get a flight out until the second… Charlie sighed. It was never going to work! Eventually he was going to have to deal with Don. Moreover, Don, that stoic bastion of stubborn pride was going to have to deal with him as well. _'Oh fuck, I'm soooo screwed!'_ The writer thought, frowned and pretended to sleep for the rest of the trip.

When they reached their destination, Eric double-parked the car in front of an older building, virtually blocking one lane and a line of Yellow Cabs. He jumped out and opened the door nearest to the sidewalk for both men to slide out. He flung open the trunk and quickly handed his passengers their luggage.

"Dr. C, do you and Agent Eppes need help with your bags?" The driver asked, pointedly ignoring the honking horns and curses flung in his direction from the drivers he was blocking.

"No, no, we have it." Charlie reached in his pocket and pulled out a couple of one hundred dollar bills for a tip. He folded them and handed them to balding man. "Thank you for coming out on such a nasty day. You have a safe drive home and give your family my love, Happy New Year, Eric." Charlie said with a smile, shaking the man's hand.

"Thank you sir, and the same to you. It's always a pleasure." He nodded at Don, "Happy New Year Agent Eppes. Enjoy your stay." He said and hopped in the car, drove to the corner and made a right.

Don followed Charlie past the doorman of the building where he was introduced yet again. He had to smile as Charlie asked about the man's family, in particular his son. Don got the impression Charlie had helped the boy get into a private school and had tutored him in math. Whatever else his younger brother was, he was still at heart— a teacher. He followed Charlie into a beautiful art deco lobby. They hurried past a row of elevators to the last one where Charlie pushed the up button. The door opened and the mathematician took a key out of his pocket and slid it into a slot above the illuminated numbers. The door started to close but his arm shot out, catching it, forcing it to reopen as a female voice shouted.

"Charlie! Hold the elevator!" A few seconds later three very tall, very thin, very beautiful and very inebriated women dashed in filling the elevator with the scent of French perfume, expensive designer clothes and female giggles. Due in part to their fashionably high spiked heels, the shortest of the three towered over Charlie by several inches. She had thick shoulder length blond hair and held a half-empty bottle of Cristal in her long slender fingers. Without a word to her fellow passengers, she turned the bottle up and took a swig of the fine French Champagne. She offered Charlie the bottle with a kiss on the lips and a gentle hug.

"How's our Baby Bear?" She softly whispered as she reached out and pushed the button again closing the doors. The elevator began to rise.

At any other time, he would have politely refused her offer and avoided her embraces, but he had caught the disapproving look on his rather straight-laced FBI brother's face and decided it was showtime. The ladies did love putting on a show after all, and perhaps they could help to remove that stick that had been up Don's ass since he was twelve, or at least loosen it up a little. Besides, they were always on board for a little prude baiting and this was the perfect day for it! Deirdre would have found this hilariously funny. She had always loved a good joke. Besides, how could the relationship between his brother and himself get any worse, what freaking relationship, for that matter? Charlie cut his narrowed eyes towards Don for a second and smiled an almost evil smile.

Charlie gave the very beautiful blond a passionate kiss, grabbed the bottle, turned it up, took a swig and passed it on to the redhead. "I'm fine and how is Miss Alexia today?" He asked softly and leaned over to whisper in her ear. She gave him an amused look, glanced at Don.

"Drunk and a little stoned, Sweetie, how else would I be?" She leaned against him twisting one of his curls around her long, tapered finger. She looked at her friends and giving them a devilish wink, she nodded at the unsuspecting agent.

A woman with black and purple hair styled as if she was a flapper straight out of the Roaring Twenties, with piercings in her nose, lower lip and eyebrow, used Charlie's shoulder to balance as she slipped off a pair of black Jimmy Choo spiked heels, nearly falling in her efforts. Charlie caught her as she stumbled. Don frowned. He shook his head at the shoes that now dangled from her fingers. How women walked in those things was a mystery to him. His wife had a sizeable collection of shoes with equally ridiculous heels. Of course, since the children had come she spent most of her time in more sensible footwear, but on the rare occasions they got the chance to dress up and go out she donned shoes that looked like implements of torture to the fashion-challenged FBI agent. He had to admit they did make her legs look fantastic. Robin took excellent care of herself. Even after having four children including one set of twins, she was still a head turner.

"Thank you Sweetheart!" She said and kissed Charlie on the cheek. "Who's your adorable friend?" She gave Don a very seductive smile.

"Ladies, this is my brother, Don." Charlie said, an amused smile touching his lips. "Don, these are my neighbors, Gina," he indicated a woman with nearly waist length burgundy hair. "Alexia," he nodded towards the blond, "and of course Alice from Peoria." He smiled at the dark haired woman who slipped her arms around his waist.

"You are so bad! I should spank you." She smacked him gently on the top of his head. "I haven't been Alice from Peoria since I was sixteen and ran away from home." She ran her long purple nails across Charlie's cheek. "I'm Destiny." She said in a voice thick with whiskey and cigarettes. She turned a melting look on Don. "Play your cards right and I could be _your_ Destiny if only for one night. Since you're our Charlie's big brother, I might even give you a—professional discount." She said as she moved past Charlie and stood next to Don.

"Ladies, Don is with the FBI." He stage whispered. "He's a Fed so watch what you say."

"You're really with the FBI?" Alexia asked.

Don nervously nodded and tried to move away only to find himself pinned between the flapper and the redhead who cooed softly, "OOOO, an FBI agent! Did you bring your handcuffs? We know some great games you can play with handcuffs, don't we girls? Just ask Charlie. If you didn't bring them, don't worry we have our own."

"Ladies, leave my bother alone! He's a married man with four children." Charlie said with a thinly disguised smirk.

"Four children, good God!" They gasped and all the girls' eyes flew open.

"That's exactly what I said!" Charlie said under his breath, ignoring Don's red-faced silent pleas for help.

"You girls have started the celebration early I see." Charlie said.

"Only a little early!" The blond slid her arms around Charlie's shoulders. "Baby Bear, are you coming to our party tonight?"

"Alexia, you know I don't go out on New Years. It's amateur night." He said, kissing her on the cheek.

"We understand Sweetie, well, the invitation is always open." She kissed him on the cheek. "Hey, is Ali Bear with you?" She asked Don who looked confused.

"No, Dad's in Pasadena with the grand kids." Charlie answered.

"Oh too bad, Ali Bear is sooo adorable." The blond laid her head on Charlie's shoulder. "Almost as adorable as Baby Bear."

"What about you, handsome?" The redhead had slid her arms around Don. "Our parties are notorious. The cops might even come and I can promise you, a little more booze and my top will come off." She whispered her lips against the startled man's ear.

Don was saved by the elevator doors sliding open and they all piled out. The girls all gave Charlie a hug and gentle kisses on the cheek then they stumbled off down the hall, laughing as they went.

Charlie felt Don's eyes boring a hole in the side of his head. He looked at his older brother and shrugged. "What can I say, it's New York. Don't worry, I won't tell Robin. Your secret is safe with me." He pointed towards his brother's lips. "But you'd better wipe the lipstick off your face and your jacket before you get home. And I'd check my pockets if I was you. Gina has a habit of slipping guy's her number for wives to find. She thinks it's funny. I don't think Robin will find it all that amusing."

Charlie was doing all he could not to laugh as he led his brother, who was still fumbling in his pockets, in the opposite direction to his apartment. He used his key to unlock the door, stepped inside to punch the code in the security system, and motioned for Don to come in.

"Ali Bear and Baby Bear?" Don asked.

"The ladies really love Dad. Whenever he's in town we go out to all the best clubs and parties. He's very popular." Charlie smiled. "I guess they think he's like a cuddly, grumpy bear. I'm his son so I'm Baby Bear."

"Funny, Dad never mentioned _'the ladies'_." Don grinned as he continued his search. "That bitch!" Don said loudly as he pulled a pink scented business out of his inside jacket pocket.

"Told you," Charlie laughed. "Maybe he thought his new girl friend wouldn't let him visit if she knew about them. Anyway, your room is this way." He led Don down the hall and opened a door. "You can toss your bag in here. You have your own bathroom, if you'd like to freshen up." He led Don back towards the front of the apartment to the large kitchen. "The beer's in the fridge. Just help yourself to anything you want. I'm going to run through the shower and change. I have dinner reservations at a place nearby so I won't be long."

"Charlie, I don't want to be a burden." Don said quickly.

"Hey, it's no burden. _I'm_ not cooking the food. It's a little Italian place, nothing fancy, family owned. They specialize in Tuscan cuisine and they have the best food in town as far as I'm concerned. Help yourself to the beer while I change." He turned to head for his bedroom but stopped and with a sly smile added. "Look, I don't go out on New Year's Eve, but that doesn't mean you can't. The ladies do throw a great party, lots of booze and famous people. And Gina wasn't lying. I can assure you that as the night gets later and everyone gets drunker, her top will come off." He lifted his eyebrows. "Probably more tops than just hers will go flying off the terrace by the time the ball drops. If you want to go, I swear I won't tell your wife!"

"I think I'll pass." Don said turning red to his ears and getting a cold beer out of the refrigerator.

"Okay, I'll be right back. Just make yourself at home." Charlie disappeared down the hall.

Don Eppes took a sip of Stella and slowly made his way to the living room. He stood in the middle of the luxuriously appointed room and looked around. He always thought New York apartments were small. This place was enormous. The entire floor was divided into only four units. As he took in the ambience, he thought the place hardly looked like the messy brother he remembered. From the Steinway Baby Grand in the corner to the fine antiques, it was the perfect mix of Chippendale, Queen Anne, and Sheraton with a touch of Deco thrown in here and there. He knew the furnishings were not reproductions anymore than the paintings on the wall were copies or the rug covering the polished wooden floor in the dining room was a _fake_ Aubusson.

No, every stick of furniture, every work of art was genuine. The place was a freaking museum! He was almost afraid to touch anything. The apartment was more like a showroom than a home. There was not one magazine, not one math book in sight and not one item out of place or a speck of dust anywhere. In short, there was nothing in the obscenely expensive yet tastefully exquisite décor that said _Charlie Eppes lives_ _here;_ and then he walked towards the wall across from the fireplace.

It was there he found a little of his brother in the photographs on display. Some he recognized as copies of ones from the house in Pasadena, portraits of the family Eppes in happier times. Others were of himself and Charlie on that trip to Washington a lifetime ago. And, thanks to their Dad he was sure, there were even photographs of him, Robin and the kids. Don recognized Ashley DeVoe in a few. He wondered if Charlie had ever fully recovered from her loss. There was several of Charlie with a group of men dressed in camouflage, cigars hanging out of their mouths, smiling and mugging for the camera. Don hardly recognized that man as his math geek brother. There was even a couple of the team in L.A. taken just before Charlie's abduction.

Of all the photographs of familiar and not so familiar faces, the ones that struck him the most were of a beautiful woman with black hair. In a couple of photographs she was sitting with Ashley and in others, she was with Charlie, holding his hand. In one in particular, displayed in a silver frame, they were holding each other standing in front of the fireplace surrounded by a small group of people. Don recognized the women he had just met, along with Mike Donovan, Will and another larger man. They all looked so very happy.

Don moved away from the display and his eyes rested on a large oil painting hanging over the fireplace of the same woman. She was a classic beauty with long black hair. Her eyes were a deep almost emerald green much like Ashley's and her skin was fair and flawless. Don sighed. His father was always trying to keep him abreast of Charlie's comings and goings in some misguided attempt to get his two boys to reconcile their differences. Even his own wife had joined the conspiracy.

Of course, Robin had no problem with her brother-in-law and she spoke to Charlie occasionally to think him for all the gifts he sent the kids. Over the years, he had found some fantastic and unusual things from every corner of the world for the nieces and nephew he had never met. His kids loved getting gifts from Uncle Charlie. You never knew what might be in those packages postmarked from faraway places. He had even sent Justin a real Raptor claw when he heard the boy was going through his dinosaur stage. He sent the girls the most beautiful handmade dolls from France complete with a fully furnished dolls house with crystal chandeliers that really worked. Robin thought their children should get to know their mysterious and far too generous uncle. They were beginning to doubt he really existed. Robin tried to reason with her husband, but Don being Don, he refused to relent. Not even the woman he loved, the mother of his children could tear down that thick, impenetrable wall he had built between his brother and himself. Simply too much damage had been done.

So why did it irritate him so much that of all the inconsequential things people felt compelled to tell him about his estranged brother, why had no told him Charlie had a woman in his life? He thought back on the drive in from the airport and the ring his brother kept nervously twisting. _'Why did you never mention her, Dad?'_ He thought. He wondered what her name was and if she was out of town and that was why his brother was celebrating alone tonight. He shook his head and dismissed the thought. If Charlie wanted him to know, he would tell him. At any rate, Charlie's personal life certainly was not his concern.

He moved away from the fireplace and strolled to the French doors, and peaked out. He carefully opened the doors and stepped out onto a large terrace. Below him lay one of the greatest cities in the world. From the buildings rising around him to Central Park across the busy street, the view was breathtaking—_and far from cheap_. Don thought feeling a twinge of resentment touch his heart.

Charlie had, from the time he was very young, been an enormous success. Fame and all that went with it had always been his. An old friend of theirs had called him the rock star mathematician. Apparently writing idiot action/adventure novels and artsy photographic books paid very well, far better than he would have imagined, while risking your neck tracking down real criminals for the FBI paid shit. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. He made good money and so did his wife. However, Don knew Robin and he were going to have to hustle and work their asses off for years in order to buy a decent, medium sized house in a good neighborhood and a first rate education for their children. While Charlie, on the other hand, taps away at a computer, travels the world and snaps away with a digital camera— and his reward is a terrace apartment in New York City overlooking Central Park. _'God really is a practical joker,'_ he thought and jumped as a voice came from behind.

"When I'm in town, I have my coffee out here about five AM almost every morning, weather permitting of course. I like to watch the sun come up over the City. It sort of relaxes me before I start my day." Charlie said turning up the collar of his jacket.

"This is one hell of a view!" Don said.

"I like it." Charlie smiled. "We need to get going. I don't want to be late. The restaurant's not far, just down the street so I thought we'd walk." He said motioning for Don to follow.

Don nodded, took one more look at the view and fell in beside his brother."The rent on a place like this must be astronomical." He said. "Writing must pay far better than I thought."

"Oh, I don't rent. I own this apartment." He said matter-of-factly as he closed the door and locked it.

Don froze for a moment then with a quick shake of his head; he silently cursed the stupid inequities of life and followed his brother to the elevator.

TCB


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Chapter Three

Don Eppes shivered against the frigid winter weather. He glanced briefly at his brother as they walked, irritably wondering to himself what Charlie had meant by 'just down the street'. As far as the freezing agent was concerned, they had passed 'just down the street' a block and a half ago! Of course, as the increasingly churlish older Eppes brother was well aware, Charlie's idea of a short walk and his idea of a short walk weren't the exactly same thing. As Don recalled, he had once let Charlie talk him into going on what the mathematician had misleadingly described as a "_pleasant little stroll," _to earn money for the American Cancer Society. What pissed him off about the entire incident was not the event it's self, after all,cancer had robbed them of their mother so Don had been more than happy to take part. No, it was not the Walk, what really burned his ass was the fact that, to his way of thinking, his conniving kid brother had deceived him by understating exactly how far they would be walking.

Don remembered the morning his excited and eagerly enthusiastic kid brother had called to let him know that he had taken the liberty of '_volunteering' _him, along with David Sinclair and Colby Grainger to walk with the team he was forming. Don had questioned Charlie as to how many miles constituted a _pleasant little stroll_. He was not at all averse to taking part, though he was not happy about being '_drafted_', but he wanted to know what he was getting into ahead of time. Charlie had assured his older brother that he would enjoy himself, that he and the committee had various fun events planned for the day, that it was just a short hike, and that anyone could do it.

"Don, we have mothers with babies in strollers taking part. Dad and his book club are taking part. A tough FBI agent like you should have no trouble keeping up." Don had hesitated, but only for a second. He could sense his brother's disappointment over the phone. After all, Charlie had been talking about that event for weeks. He was one of the main organizers, and for a moment, it looked like his own brother was not going to lend his support. Don had known the charity event was very important to Charlie. It was the first time he had seen his still recovering little brother truly energized about anything since his abduction so, in the name of familial solidarity, he had agreed.

It was on the day of the Walk that he came to the unpleasant realization that he should have questioned Charlie a little more thoroughly. Perhaps if he had he would have learned about the brackets. The young mothers with children had their own as did senior citizens like their Dad and his friends. Charlie's team however, consisted mainly of members of his hiking club to whom twenty-five grueling miles was nothing, in fact they joked and laughed most of the way. What pissed Don off almost as much as what he felt was deliberate deceit on Charlie's part, was the fact that Grainger and Sinclair enjoyed the day just as much as the mathematician and his pals. He, on the other hand, developed blisters the size of boulders on not one, but both feet and could barely move the next day.

After the event, the exhausted, limping and rather disgruntled FBI agent had crashed on the couch at the Craftsman. When Charlie came bounding down the stairs like a gazelle at 7:30 AM the next morning to grab a cup of coffee before he _walked_ to the park, it was all Don could do not to strangle him. But in the end, a lot of money was raised for a very worthy cause and his younger brother had been more than grateful for the support of his family and friends. In those long past days, when Charlie was full exuberance and all the child-like joy in the world for something dear to his heart, it was impossible for his big brother to stay mad at him for long—but that was the past. Things had changed.

Years later, walking through near blizzard conditions beside that same younger brother, Don Eppes frowned and made a great effort to try to remember not to open his mouth. The cold made his teeth ache and his nose run. His already foul mood was not lightened in the least by the icy wind that stung his cheeks, chapped his lips and seemed to cut him to his very core. They had been walking for about half a block when he had concluded that New York in the dead of winter was not the place for a man more accustomed to the warm breezes of L.A. Of course, he was not a total stranger to cold weather. He had always been an avid skier and he had once dwelled in far colder climes than Southern California. Albuquerque, New Mexico, for example, though the winter months are generally mild, they are not exactly balmy. They can turn frigid with almost no notice and snow is not unheard of.

During his wilder days of chasing fleeing felons across the country, Don dealt with a variety of unpleasant conditions. Once he had pursued an extremely violent perp across a frozen lake in Bangor, ME as a Nor' Easter raged around him. Of course, he had been younger then—and faster. The passage of time had rendered his blood a bit thin for a full-blown winter storm. Moreover, these days he was a little too slow to chase the bad guys across frozen lakes, or through back alleys and up fire escapes. He was still among the best in his field, a well-respected and highly decorated Federal Agent, but he was wise enough to know that there were some things better left to the younger crowd. The man who once lived for the hunt was now content to serve in a supervisory position and when forced to be away from home, found that he longed for the comfort of sitting on his patio with his wife while his children played in the back yard. Suddenly he felt a pang of loneliness that he recognized as homesickness and, unlike the distant, emotionally detached man he had once been, he was not the least bit embarrassed by the emotion.

Don glanced at his brother again and his mood sank even deeper. While he felt battered by the miserable weather, Charlie seemed invigorated by the same. His steps were almost bouncy and his cheeks appeared absolutely rosy, not chapped and raw like his own. Occasionally someone would shout Charlie's name and he'd wave or he would stop and take a minute to carry on a conversation with the man selling coffee on the corner or a very fashionable woman dashing from a cab into a high-rise. Charlie had always been nothing if not a friendly soul.

After they passed at least three very inviting establishments, the shivering FBI agent was starting to wonder if his notoriously absent-minded brother had forgotten at which restaurant, he had made reservations! That situation had presented it's self before on more than one occasion. Once, Don recalled, standing around the living room dressed to the nines waiting for Charlie, who had completely forgotten about yet another stuffy dinner in his honor and to make matters worse _one of the finest minds in the world_ _today_ couldn't remember the name of therestaurant or the time the dinner started. Unfortunately, the only other person who might have known was Larry Fleinhardt and he was, as usual, more lost than Charlie was.

The near disastrous evening was saved, and not for the last time, by their father, who found the announcement stuffed in a drawer in the kitchen along with a flashlight Charlie had used a couple of days earlier during a power failure. They made the dinner with no time to spare and yet another chapter was added to Dad's already overflowing cache of Charlie stories. As for Don, he had long since stopped finding the preoccupied genius act in the least bit amusing. He always had to be the responsible brother and too often had to pick up the slack when Charlie messed up. At best he found his little brother's lack of presence of mind annoying, at worst, he found him infuriating.

Don sniffed and wiped at his nose, halfway expecting to find an icicle hanging there. His fingers were numb, his ears were numb and he was getting tired of walking. He was about one second away from risking a toothache and opening his mouth to tell his brother that they either found a place to eat immediately or he was turning around and heading back when the smaller man stopped in front of an almost modest establishment.

"We're here." Charlie said as he opened the door, holding it for his brother and standing aside as Don rushed past. "See, I didn't forget where I was going." He smiled, lifted his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. The cynical older brother blushed to his frozen ears as he realized just how transparent his musings on the past had been.

The journey was pure torture but once they reached their destination, the all but frost bitten agent had to agree the trip was well worth all he had suffered. The restaurant was small and intimate. The smell of rich, superbly prepared food wafting from the kitchen reminded Don that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He suddenly realized that he was starved. As they entered, Charlie corralled the owner, taking him aside while Don waited at the hostess station watching as the two talked. Finally, the older man gave his brother an affectionate bear hug and personally escorted them to a table near the blazing fireplace. Soon a glass of ruby red wine and a mug of frosty beer made a welcome appearance. Charlie requested a menu for his brother. He didn't need one since the restaurant already had his order. It had been the same, without variation, for three New Year's Eves now. After a few minutes of perusing the small menu, Don ordered his meal then picked up his beer, took a sip and stared a spot on the wall just above the fireplace, completely ignoring his host.

Charlie narrowed his eyes and tapped the table a few times. '_So this is how it's going to_ _be_.' He thought and felt that old familiar tightness in his chest as he tried not to look at his older brother. The tension between the two men had subsided a little after they left the airport. They had even engaged in conversation, however brief. The mathematician let himself hope that, if they could not be warm and friendly, they could be at least as civil as polite strangers are when forced to share close accommodations during a crisis, but sitting at that table his hopes faded as the tension once again began to grow and became in fact, worse than ever.

Charlie sighed remembering what a hard-ass his older brother could be, especially with his kid brother. He was sure Don believed he was having dinner with the same man he could once wither with a well-executed stare. Boy was he in for a surprise! The mathematician discreetly cut his eyes towards his guest. _'Poor Donnie," _he thought_," you have no idea just who you are dealing with, but_ _if you want to play this game, then bring it on. I only give one warning, big brother, only one and then only to those I respect. Keep on this path and you'll soon learn that over the years, your meek and placid little brother has grown a set of razor sharp fangs. Believe me, you do not want to mess with me, you just don't. I'm the big bad wolf—GRRRRR._' He saw Don glance his direction and realized he had growled aloud. He quickly covered his mouth with his fingers and tried to cover his error by pretending to suppress a cough.

_'I should never have agreed to this, this is a big mistake!' _Don Eppes thought and took a sip of beer._ 'And did he just freaking growl at me?'_ He frowned and briefly glanced across the table. Don now wished that he had refused his brother's invitation. After all, how bad could the airport possibly be? He scowled even deeper wishing that he could take a page from little Justin's book and simply escape the situation by falling asleep with his face in the spaghetti plate. Alas, that was a privilege reserved for either the very young or the very elderly. He was neither.

Charlie Eppes aimlessly looked around the room, stared into his wine glass, or nodded a greeting at diners seated at other tables. He glanced at his watch and wished to all his heart that he had elected to get take out instead of attempting a sit-down dinner with his brother. What had made him imagine that they could share a meal together when they couldn't even be in the same house together. Hell, they couldn't be in the same cemetery together.

Things had become so strained between Don, his father and himself that when their Great Aunt Irene had passed away four years before, he had not attended the funeral. He knew he was not welcome and he hadn't wanted his presence to cause any difficulties at such a sad time. Charlie had waited until everyone left the funeral home and he had said his goodbyes in private. Again, at the gravesite, he waited for all the mourners to leave, and then he had stood at the freshly filled in grave alone and remembered his mother's favorite aunt. She had been a stubborn, irascible, opinionated, tough old lady, among the last of an awe-inspiring generation that was quickly disappearing from the world, the likes of which would probably never be seen again.

On his most recent visit, the one from which he had just returned, Charlie had placed a small pebble on her marker as tradition demanded. He had never been a religious man. God had never found a place in his mathematically precise, scientifically, logical mind. However, he most certainly respected the beliefs and traditions of his ancestors, even if he could not share in them. Then, as he always did when he was in town, he knelt beside his mother's grave and spoke with her for a while. The dichotomy of his lack of belief in God and the afterlife, and the comfort he found in speaking with his deceased mother never occurred to him. It was simply something he had done for years. So, logic aside, he knelt and told her everything going on in his life since his last visit, just as he had while she lived and they had shared the events of the day over late night cups of Earl Grey in the warmth of the comfortable kitchen while the rest of the house slept.

He told her about his latest adventures with Mike and the guys. He could almost hear her laughter as he regaled her with tales of the idiotic situations in which they often found themselves. In fact, he told her with a smile; the rest of the crew had started calling Mike and him Lucy and Ethel, that is, when they weren't calling them Moose and Squirrel. Mike didn't find the sitcom reference nearly as funny as everyone else found it, but even the marine had to admit, they had come by the designation honestly.

Charlie laughed as he related the most recent incident that proved the nicknames were more appropriate than even he wanted to admit. It occurred during demolition training of the newest batch of recruits. As always there were a few know- it- all's among the group, the sort who figured they could not benefit from GySgt Donovan's expertise or his own. In order to teach the idiots a lesson, Mike and he devised a rather graphic and forceful demonstration as to exactly how powerful an explosive device, even an HCB or a so-called MacGyver bomb could be and just how much damage it could do in a heartbeat if you let your mind wander.

In hindsight, perhaps they should have found a place for their demonstration other than the clearing less than one hundred yards away from the metal building used to store equipment. And perhaps they shouldn't have tried to add a little extra oomph to their show by sneaking a bit of the 'good stuff' into the mixture of common but, if mixed properly, very volatile, household chemicals. Of course, it really didn't help that Gus had added a minuscule amount more C4 and packed the cylinder a bit tighter than Charlie's calculations specified.

If it had been their intention to put the fear of God and respect for things that go boom into the arrogant jerks; well, mission accomplished—in spades! The problem was that in the process they put the fear of God into themselves as well. After the demonstration was over, they stood staring in awe down into a deep crater and then up at a three foot round hole in the metal roof nearly twenty feet above their heads, where the cylinder had, as Gus impishly put it, '_reentered the atmosphere_ _and fell to earth_'. It was then that Will felt compelled to put a friendly arm around his shoulder, and in a very bad Cuban accent utter those seven words that he would come to hear often, _'Lucy,_ _you got some 'splanin to do._'

He told her how his third book had come out in the late summer and that it was doing very well, "Twelve weeks on the New York Times best seller list." He said with incredulity. Even after all these years, it never failed to amaze him that his books were so wildly popular or that he had such a huge fan following. His main characters, a Jewish FBI agent who has been dismissed by the Bureau after the questionable shooting of a Senator's son, his genius mathematician, part-time college professor younger brother and an ex-marine who smokes Cuban cigars and drinks Jack Daniels like most people drink water, were loosely based on the brothers Eppes and Mike Donovan. In fact entire the premise of the series and many of the characters were obviously from Charlie's own life, though very highly fictionalized. The real Don, unlike the disgraced agent in the books, is on the fast track for promotion at the Bureau and Donovan drinks only moderately, but he does have an affinity for smoking Cubans.

The characters were first introduced in, '_Devils of the Andes'_. That book took place in Peru and set the stage for the following books. The younger brother recruits the older to help with a 'special project'. The ex-agent soon discovers his geeky, unassuming younger sibling has a secret life as an international spy. Moreover, that he and his best friend, an ex-marine, are the leaders of band of hard drinking, hard living, kick your ass just 'cause it's Tuesday, out of their freaking minds, mercenaries well known and feared in the subversive world of soldiers-for-hire as The Eight Devils.

Still stinging from his unjust, politically motivated, dismissal from the Bureau and needing money for his family, the older brother reluctantly agrees to help. He soon regrets that decision when he finds himself thrown headfirst into a world where laws mean little, life is cheap, morals are a liability and anything and everything goes. The ex-agent has lived his life enforcing the law, and abided by a high moral standard and a rock solid code of ethics. Soon he finds himself surrounded by and aligned with men he would have arrested in his former life. He considered The Devils to be entirely depraved, treacherous, dangerous and completely mad as a hatter and the maddest hatter of them all was— his genius kid brother.

Of course the diametrically opposed bothers clash, bicker and trade insults from the beginning, but underlying their conflict and the thing that makes the relationship work, is the deep respect and love they have for each other. In addition, the ex-FBI agent decides that his baby brother and company have a desperate need for a moral compass and that HE, is the only one qualified to be that guiding light. Therefore, in order to rein in his out of control younger sibling, he joins the Devils, forming an uneasy alliance of what the less than pleased mathematician calls Eight Devils and One Fucking, Exasperating, Self-righteous Angel.

Charlie had written the book for fun and that was all it was supposed to be— a fun, adventurous, fast moving story, meant to be enjoyed. There was no hidden message, no deep meaning and no moral to his tale except to enjoy the ride. But of course Charlie still being Charlie, math was central to his fiction, just as it was in nearly every aspect of his life. He never failed to point that out in every interview, at every book signing or to anyone who would listen, that if you paid attention you could learn something from his books. The math and science his character used to lead the Devils really worked. He always changed the components or left out enough details so you couldn't use his story to, say make a bomb out of a light bulb, not that it mattered. That knowledge was already available to any thirteen year old with a computer. His Dad's generation had _The Anarchist_ _Cookbook; _kids today have the internet.

Charlie smiled sadly and told his mother that he had a meeting and he had to go, but that he would be back in town around the middle of February. "I'll see you then, Mom. Say hello to Aunt Irene for me." He turned to walk away but hesitated for a moment and looked at a spot a few feet away, a plot he had purchased years ago. There had been a time when he thought that one day, when his life was over, he would rest near her and his father. Now he knew that would never happen. Considering the situation, his being buried there would make things too difficult for his brother. Besides, the only people who would grieve him had their own traditions and, in death as well as in life, they took care of their own. He would leave Don to mourn their parents in peace. After all the pain he had caused, Charlie supposed it was the least he could do for the man.

Charlie sighed and moved a few rows away to a white marble headstone. He knelt and placed a dozen white Calla Lilies on the grave. There he had lingered almost feeling her presence. His Ashley, even after seven years, her death was still an open sore, a wound that would never heal. And what truly tortured him on that dreary afternoon as he stood in that quiet place of eternal peace was that he shed not one tear, not for his beloved mother, not for his aunt, not for his lost Ashley, and he hadn't, not for anyone or anything, not in years. He wondered just what kind of a person he had become and if there was anything at all left of the man he used to be? He shuddered, suddenly cold though it was a warm day, the answer was not forthcoming and that was probably a good thing.

Charlie forced himself back to the present. He sighed and glanced at his brother who was once again checking the time on his watch. _'It's about five minutes later than the last time you checked, big bro.'_ Charlie thought, took a sip of his wine, and turned his eyes away to study the painting on the stone wall next to their table.

He remembered the day Deirdre and he had purchased that painting from an elderly woman selling her art in an open-air market in the Chianti region of Tuscany. It was a simple depiction of a small vineyard and a tiny cottage covered in beautiful pink flowers. They had instantly thought of Emilio and Alyssa Melfi, the older couple who owned their favorite restaurant back in New York. It was in that very location that the childhood sweethearts had wed nearly thirty-five years earlier. Not long after their wedding, the Melfi's immigrated to New York City where Emilio and his beloved Lyssa raised six children and built their dream—a small trattoria. Now, so many years later their dream thrived and was shared by their children and a dozen grandchildren all of whom worked in the family business. They were a loving, noisy, funny, adorable family. Everything Charlie knew he would never possess.

Charlie thought of the villa he and Dee had shared that October in Tuscany. They had fallen in love with the countryside and the people. They had even discussed buying a little place and spending every fall there for the rest of their lives. Life for them during that cold October in that little village had been so simple, so ideal, and so peaceful— their halcyon days.

He remembered all their plans— dreams and schemes made as they shared a bottle of ordinary wine staring up at a full Tuscan moon on a cold fall night. Years later, sitting in that small restaurant they had both loved so much, on New Year's Eve across from a brother who apparently had nothing to say to him and hated his guts, Charlie took another sip of his wine. He swirled the glass, and watched the soft candlelight reflect in the rich ruby liquid. Tuscany seemed like yesterday, but it had been over three years since that all those funny, absurd schemes had blown away like dead, brittle leaves on a blustery, winter's day. He felt an icy finger touch his heart, but then he caught a remembered whisper of Chanel and a soft, voice whispered in his ear that pet name she always used when a black mood threatened.

_"Now, Charlie, no Sad Panda faces tonight! Be happy Sweetheart, and if you need a reason to smile, think about Mike being 'kissed' by Steven Tyler in Africa. Picture that, and you have to laugh. "_

And she was right. He pulled that picture of Mike, swearing and wiping the most disgusting smelling slim you could imagine from his face. He threaten to turn the malodorous, ill tempered, dromedary they had called Steven because Charlie thought the beast looked like the lead singer of Aerosmith, into a rug for his home in Washington while the rest of the crew rolled on the ground laughing.

"Hey, big guy, calm down, Steven just wanted to give you camel sugar. He likes you." Charlie had said, tears of laughter streaming down his face. However, it was when he began singing _Love in an Elevator_ that Mike lost it.

"Oh yeah, I'll give you _camel sugar_, you little bastard." Mike had charged after him trying to wipe the remains of the smelly discharge on his shirt. After a short chase, Mike caught him and wrapped his arms around Charlie. He then jumped into the muddy river dragging his hapless victim with him as Gus filmed the entire damned thing.

Charlie smiled at the memory of Mike, Africa, and Steven Tyler. He sighed and glanced at the fireplace, then his watch and then the wall. He was running out of places to set his gaze to avoid looking at his brother and he was getting sick of the entire damned charade. For a moment, the younger Eppes brother seriously considered a truly wicked idea. What if he excused himself to go to the men's room, and instead went home, sticking the very parsimonious Donnie Dearest with the rather huge dinner check? Charlie knew he could easily pull it off. He would call Emilio and explain that he was playing a joke on his guest and… Charlie sighed. As tempting as it was to dine and dash on his big brother, he supposed he had better behave, at least for the moment.

Finally, the last of the pasta gone and the wine glass almost empty, Charlie Eppes had finally come to the end of his rope. He had had more than enough of the silence, the furtive glances and he simply could no longer ignore the elephant in the room. With no warning, he slammed his fork down on his plate with a resounding clank. NOW he had his asshole brother's attention! Don was staring at him, his eyes as cold as the wind blowing in from Canada, his napkin poised halfway to his mouth.

Charlie put both hands on the table and leaned forward. "Look, I'm as uncomfortable with this situation as you are, maybe even more so. I guess I should have left you sitting at the damned airport, but it's too late for that now. Like it or not, we are stuck with each other for a couple of days. We can either sit in silence pretending the other one doesn't exist, or we can make the best of things and treat each other with as much respect as we would give a stranger." He took a breath then continued.

"Don, I certainly don't expect any warm, fuzzy, and loving brotherly moments with you, but can't we at least talk about, the fucking weather, Dad, work or," he looked away for a moment. "I don't know… whether next year's shoes will have pointy or round toes, high heels or wedges, or if pencil skirts will once again dominate the runways?" He saw the change in his brother's expression as he speculated on the spring collection, and he shrugged. "Hey, you met the ladies. They are just the tip of the iceberg. I live at the corner of fucking Wisteria Lane and Melrose Place. My building is populated by a couple of pop stars, a top fashion designer and his photographer lover, a few models and several fashionistas, both male and female whose only occupation is being rich, beautiful and well—famous. Happenings at fashion week and the upcoming season are the main topics of conversation at cocktail parties, not the freaking Middle East, and far more important than what goes on in the Gaza is who is sleeping with whom, who hates this one or that one, who's in rehab yet again or who should be. It's sort of like high school with designer clothes, Italian shoes and Birkin bags." He saw his brother's mouth twitch and the corners involuntarily turned up, despite Don's best efforts to the contrary.

Charlie grinned. "So, I can still make you smile. Maybe there's hope for us yet! Do you think we can at least pretend to be adults for a couple of days? After that, you can go your way, I can go mine and you never have to see me or speak to me again. What do you say; can we at least try to get along?" He hesitated for a second and held out his hand. "Temporary truce, big bro?" He said all too aware of his heart pounding in his chest as he anxiously waited for his brother's response.

TCB


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One is stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Four

The two brothers stared at each other over the flickering candle. Charlie was only vaguely aware of the happy chatter emanating from the nearby tables. Everyone around him, save Don, seemed to be in a celebratory mood. The coming year promised hope and renewal and they were preparing to welcome it in with good friends and loved ones. Many of them would soon finish their excellently prepared meals and dash home to change clothes and head out for a night of revelry. Charlie was a little envious of their hopeful, joyous mood. His own belief in new beginnings had faded long ago, now his only objective on New Year's Eve was to 'get through it'.

From the kitchen Emilio burst into an impromptu chorus of _La Donna E Mobile_ in his rich, near perfect tenor. His exuberant love of anything Verde was not dampened in the least by his loving wife's good-natured orders to stop his dreadful caterwauling and tend to their customers. In contrast to the festive mood, his older brother's cold, silent glare was like a slap in the face. The fact that Don had not accepted his handshake, nor had he even acknowledged his offer of peace, if for only a couple of days, hung in the air like a thick cloud of smoke.

For six years, the one thing Charlie had always feared was that he would make a gesture towards his brother and that his efforts would be thrown back in his face. That fear had finally come to pass. He felt slightly humiliated and, to his great chagrin, the rejection stung, but not nearly as much as he might have expected. He didn't fall over dead; the world hadn't crashed in around his ears. Besides embarrassment, he felt surprisingly little. It was all very stupid, all very sad, and all such a terrible waste. Slowly Charlie withdrew his out-stretched hand, clinched his fist and settled back in his chair. He sighed and looked away.

The mathematician looked up as the waiter approached. He gave the hard-working man a small smile and a friendly 'thank you' as the dinner plates were replaced with cups of rich, full bodied coffee and dessert. In reality, he had little appetite left. All he wanted at that point was to pay the check and go home but to do so would be an insult to his good friends who always worked so hard to make this difficult night bearable for him. After a brief pause he picked up his fork and silently began eating the cake Emilio himself had prepared especially for him.

Don Eppes took a sip of coffee and a bite of his dessert. He sheepishly glanced at his brother, embarrassed by his own ill-mannered behavior. Charlie had been nothing but kind and gracious since offering him a place to stay until he could get a flight and he had repaid his brother's generosity with a kick in the teeth. Don closed his eyes for a second and tried to get a handle on his feelings about Charlie's offer of a truce. He felt strangely conflicted. On one hand, he had been angry with the man for so long he couldn't remember _not_ being angry with him; and if he was totally honest with himself, he had to admit his life these last years had been much happier and far less complicated with Charlie absent from it—still. Don nervously rubbed his lips and again glanced at his younger brother who seemed to be intently contemplating his dessert.

For most of their lives Charlie had been a self-centered, self-involved thorn in his side. He always had to be the center of everyone's attention and the world just had to revolve around his needs. But in this particular instance, Don was all too aware that _he_ was the asshole, _he_ was the jerk. He had treated suspects in custody, the very scum of society, even serial killers, far better than he had his own kid brother. He had behaved deplorably and he knew it. After all, what had Charlie asked of him in return for his hospitality— nothing, not one single thing. All he expected from his estranged older brother, to whom he had opened up his home, was simple courtesy and respect. _'Maybe that's the problem,' _Don thought looking at his brother through narrowed eyes._ 'Maybe you should ask me for something Charlie, maybe you should ask me for forgiveness.' _He problem with _that_ was that even if Charlie asked, even if he begged, Don wasn't at all sure that he had forgiveness to give.

Suddenly the image of his father's stern, disapproving face popped unbidden before his eyes and Don shuddered as he heard that stern, frequently nagging voice reminding him once again of his upbringing. At the thought of being reprimanded, even if only in his imagination, by his father, Agent Don Eppes of the FBI felt the years slip away and he was no longer a full grown man with a wife and four children. He found himself once again in the tenth grade sitting in Principal Harlan's stuffy, smelly office listening as the hateful old bastard told a less than pleased Margret and Alan Eppes that their oldest had been caught skipping math class for the third time in a month and this time something had to be done about their rebellious son.

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"_Mr. and Mrs. Eppes, I am sorry but we have given Don every chance to straighten up but he continues to defy us at every turn. I now have no choice but to impose a one week in-school suspension. If he continues on his present course he could be looking at far more serious consequences. He could even face expulsion and then he can kiss any chance of a scholarship of any sort goodbye." The pudgy, balding bureaucrat had stated as he sifted through files and looked at the Eppes' with his beady little pig eyes as if they were the most ineffective parents he had ever met. Don had sat beside his father glaring, feeling as if he was being unjustly persecuted. God, he hated Principal Harlan! His suits were always a little shabby. He had nicotine stains on his fingernails and he always stank of Aqua Velva and Camels. _

_The foul man linked his sausage-like fingers and rested his folded hands on the stack of folders. "Frankly, we are extremely concerned about Don. At least three of his teachers are requesting a conference with you so please make an appointment with the secretary as you leave. In recent weeks his grades have noticeably dropped and his attitude towards the faculty and his fellow students is becoming increasingly hostile." He had paused, and with one finger pushed his wire-framed glasses back on his snout-like nose as he pointedly looked from one Eppes to the other. "Perhaps there is some problem at home to explain this sudden change in Don?" Margret Eppes had looked stunned at the insinuation and shocked that the man would even ask them such a thing with Don present. She had started to open her mouth but stopped when her husband's hand closed around her wrist in a discreet warning to be diplomatic._

_Later that night his parents had sat him down at the dining room table and let him know just how disappointed they were in him. They also wanted him to know that they were worried about the seemingly unexplainable changes in his behavior. Did he want to talk? They loved him and would do anything within their power to help him and there was nothing he couldn't tell them. He had wanted to shout, 'You can send Charlie back to the robot planet he came from!' He was tired of everyone comparing him to his extraordinary younger sibling and of living in the shadow of the brat's so-called gift. Moreover, he was sick to death of defending the little twerp from every damned bully in town. That was what he had wanted to say but in the end he had only muttered what he knew his parents wanted to hear, that he was sorry, that he would try harder, that he wouldn't skip class again._

_Not completely buying Don's half-hearted promises, and knowing that she couldn't let her wayward son 'skate' on his most recent and very serious transgressions, his mother had grounded him for a month. The punishment couldn't have come at a worse time. He would miss best friend's birthday party and not just any party, it promised to be the best party of the year, maybe the best party ever! His friend's father was taking everyone to a Laker's game! His father was a friend of the team's owner and they might even get to meet a couple of the players. To top it off, one of the most popular girls in school had stopped him in the hall just before third period to tell him she was invited and she wanted to go with him. It would be his first real date. He had looked forward to it for weeks. Now thanks to his being grounded, he was going to miss possibly the best party of his life and it was entirely his geek baby brother's fault. After all, he never would have skipped class if everyone was not constantly comparing him to the little freak! That was what he should have told his parents. He was getting into trouble mainly because he was sick of looking at or hearing about his snot nosed robot of a useless brother!_

_Young Don had freaked and begged his mother for a break. If she would let him go to the party, he would agree to be grounded for the rest of the year but she was an unmovable object who couldn't care less about basketball. The frantic boy had tried to do an end-run around his unreasonable mother by going to his father and appealing to his love of sports, his understanding of how important the game was AND the fact he had a date with a really hot girl. His father was a 'guy', surely he would understand, but the old man had no sympathy. He would not reverse the punishment, patting his shoulder and explaining that someday, when he had a wife and kids, he would understand. 'Yeah, right,' he had thought, 'I'll never have kids and if I do I'll treat them better than you treat me. I'll never favor one over the over the other.' _

_Shrugging off his father's comforting hand, Don had charged up the stairs to his room stopping only long enough to growl, 'Why do you always have to be so weird, just get away from me.' at his confused little brother, who had no idea what he had done wrong or why his big brother was once again mad at him. In frustration, he had grabbed the first thing that came within his grasp, his Walkman, and slammed it to the floor, smashing it beyond repair. In Don's irrational, adolescent mind, that had also been Charlie's fault. The annoying little nerd had then made one of many tactical errors to come. He had tried to ask what he had done, but Don, blinded by rage, didn't see his baby brother had followed. Using all his strength, he slammed the door shut, catching the uncoordinated dumbass in the full in the face, giving him a bloody nose and a black eye. He had stood there staring in shock at the little boy sprawled on the floor just outside his room. Don couldn't believe what had just happened. He couldn't stand Charlie but he never intended to hurt him! _

_Part of Don knew that he should pick his brother up off the floor and apologize but in the way of hot-headed teenage boys for time immemorial, there was no way he was going to admit he had made a mistake or that he had done anything wrong. Standing there watching Charlie struggle to his feet, the realization hit him that the curly haired little tattle-tale would probably run crying to their mother and he would be in even more trouble. But Charlie, tears streaming down his cheeks and mixing with the blood from his nose ran sobbing to his room instead and this time he was the one to slam the door. _

_The next morning at breakfast when their alarmed parents had asked their youngest child what had happened to his face, Don had been sure he was about to be ratted out and that he would soon catch it big time. Charlie had blinked a couple of times and, unbeknownst to a sweet little boy with such loving parents and no experience with the dark side of life, he followed the path of abuse victims throughout the ages. He protected the one who had hurt him, telling his mother and father and anyone else who asked, that he had slipped in the shower. _

_Later that night, lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, Don had felt the tiniest twinge of guilt in the back of his mind as he recalled the hurt look in Charlie's bruised eyes at breakfast. Part of him had known full well that he shouldn't hold his little brother responsible for adults' thoughtless actions, still, he hadn't apologized. He held Charlie fully responsible for the entire incident. The stubborn teenager didn't say one word to his injured brother for almost two weeks and he felt fully justified in his actions. Over the years, this would be a weapon he would use often. Some of his friends used taunts against their younger siblings, some used their fists__—__he used silence. _

_It was on a Friday night a little over two weeks into his punishment that an almost inaudible knock came at Don's door. He cracked it open and peered out. There, dressed in his Batman PJ's, stood the infuriating little robot. In his hands he clutched the Walkman he had received for Christmas and a stack of his favorite comics._

"_Donnie, I thought you might like these. I don't need them anymore." He had handed his small bundle of treasures to the older brother he had always worshipped but never seemed to be able to please no matter how hard he tried. "I'm sorry Donnie, for whatever I did." He had turned to walk away._

"_Hey Squirt," Don had said and Charlie had reluctantly turned around, "Look, it sounds like it's going to storm and tomorrow's Saturday and we don't have to get up early so__…so you can stay in my room tonight. We can make a tent out of a blanket and some chairs. I have a flashlight and we can read the comics and maybe stay up late. I'll tell you a couple of scary stories and you can tell me a couple of , I don't know, math stories." _

"_I can tell you about Infinite Monkey Theorem." Charlie said with a grin as his brother stepped aside to let him into his room._

"_I'll bet you know all about that, don't you, ya little monkey." Don had laughed and ruffled his brother's unruly curls._

"_No really, infinite monkey theorem states that monkeys pressing keys at random on a typewriter for an infinite amount of time will type a particular finite text, such as the Bible." Don only looked confused. Charlie went to his dresser and picked up the Rubik's Cube he had given his big brother for his last birthday. Maybe he would find this more interesting. "Did you know that there are 43,252,003,274,489,856,000 different arrangements of the cube but only one of these is the initial position where all the colors match on each of the six sides? If you had a cube for each of the legal positions you could cover the entire earth including all the oceans 250 times and…" Now Don looked bored and Charlie feared he had once again angered his brother but the older boy had smiled and picked him up, swirling him around._

"_I'd rather talk about the typing monkeys, ya monkey." He had said and began making primate noises tickling his kid brother making him squeal with laughter until the door opened and their father intervened. Alan Eppes had tried to look stern but failed. In the end he had brought his boys a couple of sleeping bags so they could 'camp out' in the blanket tent they constructed. He added popcorn and an almost unheard of treat in the Eppes house, a couple of soft drinks. _

_Later, exhausted from stories told and games played the two brothers lay snug in their sleeping bags hidden in their 'tent' in the middle of Don's room. "Charlie," Don had propped himself up on one elbow and quietly said. "I'm really sorry I hurt you. I swear I didn't mean to…"_

"_I know it was an accident." Charlie said with a yawn. "You always look out for me, Donnie, don't you?" _

"_It's what big brothers do, Squirt." Don said ruffling damp curls and pulling the corner of the sleeping bag over his brother's shoulder._

"_Someday when I'm big I'll take care of you Donnie. I'll take care of you and Mom and Dad. Someday when I'm big, you'll see." Charlie had muttered as his eyes closed._

"_Of course you will, Buddy, of course you will," Don said. "Now go to sleep ya monkey." And they both make sleepy monkey sounds as they drifted off. _

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The echoes of their childish laughter receded into the past as Don Eppes pulled his thoughts back into the present. When they were children, it was easy to smooth over a bad situation with a few jokes and some popcorn or a few cartoons on Saturday morning— but they were no longer children. The problems separating them were no longer simple; they were in fact, insurmountable. He also knew that this night was not about 'solving' things with Charlie. He wasn't sure that was even possible. This night was about treating each other with dignity and respect—and getting through a horribly awkward circumstance without killing each other. Don stole a glance at the man sitting across from him. He was not at all sure where to begin, but he knew he had to say something to salvage the evening.

Clearing his throat and feeling not unlike that prideful teenage boy of so many years ago, Don Eppes opened his mouth and stumbling over his words, he awkwardly stuttered, "So, ahhhh, Charlie, you look great. I swear you never seem to age. How do you manage it?" He cringed as the words left his mouth. _'Damn, that was freaking lame! I sound exactly like Aunt Irene!' _He thought, feeling his cheeks turning red.

"I'm not so sure about that, but thanks for saying it." The corners of Charlie's mouth turned up slightly. "Of course I don't have a wife and four children, that could have a lot to do with it."

Don chuckled and with a small nod, wordlessly conceding that it was entirely possible that Charlie could be on to something. Gray hair, sleepless nights and worry just seemed to be part of the deal when you became a parent, something his father had neglected to mention in his numerous requests over the years for grandchildren.

Charlie sat his cup down slowly making a conscious effort not to let it clank against the saucer. "So, how's Dad? I was glad to hear he finally decided to retire." He quickly added realizing he had succumbed to his old habit of talking a little too fast and running his words together when he was nervous.

"Well, it's retirement Dad style. I think he's busier now than when he worked. He plays golf three times a week and he still volunteers at the homeless shelter. He has his book club and he helps at Justin's school twice a week. Somehow, on top of all of that, he still has the energy to be the perfect Granddad. I don't know how he does everything he does." He gave his brother a sly glance and added, "Oh yeah, he also spends a lot of time pushing your books. After all, you are the greatest writer since Shakespeare, at least in Alan Eppes' humble opinion."

Charlie shook his head. "I think that has more to do with money than fatherly pride. He's doing a brisk business hawking my work on E-Bay so I try to keep him well supplied with autographed copies. I guess it helps to supplement his retirement fund so I don't mind. I keep telling him not to worry about money, that I can take care of him, but Dad is a proud man."

"Tell me about it!" Don grinned. He sniffed and looked around digging for something else to say to his brother. "Ahhh, I see he's been busy building a family shrine at your place," he said at last and dabbed his mouth with the napkin as he finished his dessert. "He tried that with Robin but I think he's met his match with her."

Charlie nodded. "He adds to it every time he visits." He took a sip of coffee. "I'm quickly running out of space. He'll start on the entertainment room next, I suppose, or even worse, my office, but with my boards and all my books there's not much room in there so he may be out of luck." He shrugged. "I guess I could tell Dad to stop, but it seems important to him so I don't say anything, I just let him do what he wants."

Don paused before he spoke. "You seem to have a lot of pictures of my family." He said in a quiet voice, looking down at the white tablecloth and moving the linen napkin then turning his eyes towards his younger brother. "I'm a little— surprised."

Charlie paused, feeling uncomfortable under Don's steady gaze. "I think Dad wants me to feel like I'm still part of the family, even though I haven't been for years. That's why he keeps adding to the Eppes family shrine. He sends me DVD's of every birthday party, every school event or activity in which the kids are involved. I must have dozens of them. You only have yourself to blame. You never should have gotten him a camcorder." Charlie looked away then he looked at his brother and after a few seconds hesitation quickly said, "Look, if it bothers you I can put the photos away and only bring them out when Dad's in town and I'll ask him not to send anymore videos. Don, I certainly don't want to step on your toes. I mean, they are your kids and…"

"No, no, that's not what I mean." Don interrupted. "Of course you should keep the photos and the videos. They're still your nieces and nephews no matter how things are between us." He smiled, "Besides, if you stopped sending presents, they would never forgive me. A package from Uncle Charlie is a cause for great excitement in our house." He sighed and continued. "Look, I know Robin has thanked you, but— I'd like to thank you myself for all the gifts you've sent. You're far too generous, Charlie."

The younger man looked down for a second. "Sometimes when I'm traveling I see things that I know your kids will enjoy so I pick them up. I don't have anyone else to, well— to quote Robin— spoil. I don't even have a little dog like Alexia's; by the way, did you know you can buy designer coats, matching boots and a little umbrella for a Pomeranian? I think it's the umbrella that gets me the most. Anyway, like I was saying, I don't have anyone else to spend money on so I guess I get a bit carried away with your kids."

A small smile touched Don's lips. "You've sent some fantastic things. Those dolls you sent the girls for their birthday were so beautiful that Robin thought they were far too expensive for them to play with, but Dad convinced her that you meant for them to be enjoyed."

"I'm glad to hear that. I knew they were kind of fancy when I saw them in Paris, but they're still just dolls, not some museum piece. I think they were made to be loved and cherished by a little girl, not put on a shelf for display or hoarded by some collector." Charlie said. "Dad says your girls like all that princess stuff. I sort of thought the dolls looked like something a couple of princesses might own, not that I know that much about things like that. I'm afraid I'm much better with numbers, stats and computers than people, especially children." He waved his finger at Don and hurried on before his brother could interrupt. " And don't you dare play the 'you were a teacher' card like Dad always does. I was a college professor. The 'kids' I taught could shave and have sex."

Don laughed. "Well, the dolls certainly are loved, Charlie, very much so, and where the hell did you get a raptor claw?" he asked amazed.

"Oh, that. It's not a big deal. A friend of mine is a professor of Paleontology at the University of Montana. He always has a dig going on somewhere. As a favor, I photographed one for a book he was writing. The proceeds went to help finance future digs and offset the expenses of some of his students whose parents can't afford to pay for them to take part in field work. He gave me that claw as compensation, though I didn't ask for any. I really didn't have a use for it, but I didn't want to just shove it in a drawer either. I wanted it to go to someone who would appreciate it. The first person who came to mind was Justin. Dad had told me he loved dinosaurs and that he was having kind of a hard time with his new school. I know what it's like to be the kid who's different. I hoped he would get a kick out of it."

"He did. It made a difference, Charlie. It really did. Please know that I am grateful."

And silence fell between the two. The waiter removed the dishes, filled the coffee cups and left the check.

"You know, everyone at headquarters read your first book." Don said breaking the silence. "There was a copy on every desk for weeks."

"I hope you're talking about the first of the Devil's series." Charlie said, feeling his cheeks turning red.

"Well, they love all your books, but I'm talking about your first novel, _Dominion of Ashes._" Don said with an evil glint in his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

_Charlie winced. He had written Dominion just after he had returned from his year in hell, just after he had stood in his own garage feeling like a stranger to all he knew and loved. His brother had turned his back on him and cut him completely out of his life. His father hadn't gone that far, but he was distant, bordering on icy. He was spending more and more time at Don's with his grandchildren or at his girlfriend's place. Charlie rarely saw the man and when he did, it was awkward and brief. Alan Eppes had little or nothing to say to his youngest son beyond a few words as they passed in the hall about the weather or the house. For the first time in his life, Charlie doubted his father's love and that loss had hurt him far more than Don's rejection. The college had replaced him, not really an unexpected move considering the time he had been away. The FBI had replaced him, again not unexpected. The world could not stop just because he was missing. Everyone had moved on and he no longer had a place in any of their lives._

_He held on for a couple of months, wandering alone through each room of the rambling old Craftsman he loved so much and had missed so terribly while he was away. He found himself spending hours sitting alone in the dark contemplating what he was going to do with his life, wondering if he could ever again be the Charlie Eppes from the photographs displayed throughout the house. _

_Finally, tired of staring at the mindless drivel on the television and needing to accomplish something useful, he had agreed to help Will and Gus redesign the tactical driving training course in the desert about two hours southeast of L.A. For nearly three weeks, Charlie immersed himself in creating a far more challenging experience for both trainee and experienced driver. There was one issue Gus insisted he that didn't need to overly concern himself with in his calculations and that issue was safety. There was nothing safe about what they did and the youngsters needed to learn that fact from the get-go. The course had to be dangerous, nasty and brutal just like the real situations they would face. For the first time since coming home, Charlie was beginning to relax a little. He even found himself laughing with his buddies over a few drinks—and then Gary Wheeler decided to have the Queen Mother of all meltdowns and everything changed._

_Hours later, standing on that freeway overpass amid officials of LAPD's SWAT team, the FBI, Homeland Defense and The Agency, he had caught a fleeting glimpse of his older brother. Neither of them knew it at the time, but it would be six years before they would meet again. They said not one word to one another but their eyes had met a couple of times and Charlie had known the relationship was broken beyond repair. At that moment, he realized that giving his brother 'time to come to terms with things' as Mike suggested, was an exercise in futility. The empty look is his eyes on that chaotic afternoon left no doubt in Charlie's mind that Don was through with him. Even worse, his father was through with him as well. It was over and Charlie knew it was time to move on. Mike asked him to come and stay with him for a while and it was there, in the healing solitude of the mountains that he took all the pain, all the loneliness and loss and turned it into his first novel. It was during that time, still bleeding from every pore that he made another fateful and final decision. He placed a call that would alter his life forever and within three months, he made the permanent move to New York City. _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"If I had a bag, I'd put it over my head." Charlie said. "I wrote that during a very bleak time in my life. I never expected it to get published. I thought my agent would tell me to stick to what I knew." He rolled his eyes. "Now I wish she had. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Angst, angst, angst. Mike calls the damned thing _Dominion of Whiny Assed Cry Babies._"

"I'm not sure about that. You were on the New York Times bestseller list for months. You made all the girls in the office cry." Don grinned, "You made Granger cry, hell you even made Nikki cry and that takes serious talent."

"Oh man," Charlie covered his face with his hands for a second and shook his head with a groan. Reticently, he looked at his brother. "Did you read it?" He asked.

"Yeah, I did." Don smiled. _'I've read everything you've ever written._' He thought but he did not say the words aloud.

"Oh God," Charlie shuddered and held up his hands, "I have no excuse. I think I was stuck somewhere between _The_ _Catcher in the Rye_, _The Bridges of_ _Madison County, and On the Road_. The only thing it lacked was for a funny, gallant dog to die while saving his master from certain death. It could not possibly have been sappier or more self-indulgent. If you changed the main character to a woman, it would have been perfect for a _Lifetime _movie. I've gotten over feeling sorry for myself since then, I swear." He crossed his heart and held up his right hand. "So, Don, enough about me and my dubious efforts at literature, tell me how's family life?" He said as he signed the credit card receipt.

Don began telling his brother about his children and how great it was to have a family to come home to every night. He spoke of his son, Justin, and how bright he was, how academically, he was far ahead any of his peers and how he excelled in math and science, much like his uncle. David was the baby of the family and a sweet loving little boy who thought his father was some kind of super-hero. He went on and on about his twin girls, and how beautiful they were and how they had their gullible Dad and Granddad wrapped around their little fingers. Of course their mother was a different story. She had been a pretty little girl, her Daddy's pride and joy, and was on to their tricks from the beginning.

"And do you sit on the floor and play dolls with them?" Charlie asked as both men stood and slipped on their coats. He caught the look in his brother's eyes. "You do! You play dolls with your daughters!"

"You have to, Charlie. It goes with the territory." Don blushed and laughed.

As they left the restaurant and walked back to the apartment, the FBI agent continued telling Charlie about his children and all the funny things they did and said. It was on his third Justin story that he stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head. "Listen to me blabbing on and on about my kids. Remember when we used to hate it when friends did that?" Don said. "Now here I am doing the same thing. Sorry. This must be really boring for someone who travels the world and climbs mountains."

"No, not at all." Charlie said. "It's nice hearing my hard-ass FBI agent brother play the proud father. Kind of weird, but nice."

The two men stepped into the living room and shrugged out of their coats. Charlie hung them in the hall closet while Don settled on the overstuffed chair. When he returned the smaller Eppes brother hit the switch on the gas fireplace, and set it ablaze. He dimed the lights then went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer for his brother and a glass of wine for himself. He hit another switch and the music of Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 filled the air. He settled on the couch and glanced at his brother.

"I thought you'd prefer that to metal." He said.

Don chuckled then after a lengthy silence he stammered, "Ahh, you have a beautiful apartment Charlie. I…"

"But it doesn't look anything like a place you'd' expect me to call home." Charlie interrupted.

"Well…" Don said.

"Far too neat for one thing, and far too tasteful for another," Charlie added with a grin.

"I'm afraid to move. I'm afraid I'll break something that costs more than my house." Don took a sip of his beer.

The younger Eppes laughed. "I had nothing to do with the décor. It was like this when I moved in. I have a housekeeper that comes in three times a week and keeps the place neat and I have a personal assistant that keeps me where I'm supposed to be and keeps my records straight. Believe me Don, I haven't changed all that much, and don't worry about the furniture. It might be antique but it's still just furniture. Hell, I crash on this couch about half time." He stood and gestured for his brother to follow. "Come on, I'll give you the tour."

Don followed Charlie down the dimly lit hallway. "You've seen your room." He said as they passed that door and Charlie pushed the next one open. The bedroom was very similar to Don's but there was a duffle bag on the floor in the corner, a beaten up old jacket tossed on the bed and a Sig Sauer poster on the wall. "This is Casa Donovan whenever Mike's in town." Charlie said.

He led Don on. "This is the hall bathroom and this…"He pushed open the door and flipped the light switch. The furnishings consisted of a leather couch, recliner and a wet-bar. There were a couple of small tables, a game system and a 65" flat screen TV with surround sound, "is where you can watch all the football you want tomorrow. Dad practically lives in here."

Don nodded in approval. It was exactly the kind of place he dreamed of having, a place where he could have the team over for burgers and poker. He thought sadly of the room he once called his own before the girls arrived. Now his former haven's masculine décor had given way to frilly pink canopy beds, stuffed animals, dolls and the start of a Barbie collection.

Charlie switched off the light and led Don back the way they came, across the living room and down another hall. He quickly passed one door, without opening it and led Don to another.

"And this is my office. I spend most of my time in here." He said, letting Don enter first.

"Now this looks like you." Don said as he looked around and at last saw his brother in the apartment. There was a salt water aquarium in one corner and a well-worn leather couch against one wall. From the rumpled pillow and blanket, the observant FBI agent could tell his brother probably slept there more than he slept in his own bed. There were stacks of books, papers and periodicals all stacked in neat piles on shelves, probably due more to his assistant's efforts than Charlie's. Lining one wall were three black boards, all covered in indecipherable equations and symbols. In the far corner was a desk with a phone, a computer and a printer.

"See, I'm still basically the same boring Charlie. At heart I'm really just a mathematician who writes and travels, not the other way around."

Don shook his head as his eyes ran over the complicated series of equations that stretched across the boards in Charlie's all too familiar indecipherable scrawl. "I have no idea what any of this means but you still amaze me. You always have." He said softly.

He moved slowly towards the desk. In the far corner, he noticed a camouflage backpack and a duffle bag both obviously packed, obviously waiting. Charlie noticed Don's questioning look but offered no explanation for the bags other than a shrug.

The older Eppes looked at his younger brother and moved on. At the desk he picked up a framed photograph of a group of men all dressed in fatigues standing in front of a metal building. There were mountains in the background but little else to give away the location. Charlie was standing between Mike Donovan and another man. Sitting at their feet were what Don at first thought to be large gray dogs until he took a closer look.

"Charlie, are these wolves?" He asked astonished.

Charlie gently took the photograph from his hands. "Yeah, that's Geri and Freki. They're sort of mascots. Will calls us the Wolf Pack so it just seemed appropriate. The animals are his passion. He heads up a wolf conservation program and his place in Montana is a preserve. I'm working with him on a book to help earn money for the project." He gazed at the picture for a moment. "This photograph was taken before…" his voice faltered for a second. "You recognize Mike, Will and Gus. And I guess you remember Gary. You never met the others but they're all my family, my brothers." He reverently sat the picture back in its place. He could feel his brother's eyes on him and he had seen the change in his expression when he had referred to that group of strangers as his 'family, his brothers'. "Whatever happens to one of us happens to all of us and we all come to his aid from where ever we are in this world." He looked at Don, his dark eyes cool, unreadable. "We take care of our own." He added softly.

Don ran his hand over his eyes for a moment not sure what Charlie had meant by that last statement, but it felt like a jab aimed at him. He knew it was as irrational as blaming Charlie for his problems in the tenth grade, but he could feel his resentment growing with each word his brother uttered and he was fighting for control. "Ahh, you know Dad always tells me if you have a new book coming out or if you are taking off for Africa or New Zealand or climbing some mountain someplace. I guess he keeps hoping we'll you know…fix things."

"I know." Charlie said with a sigh. "He tells me all about you and how well you're doing at the Bureau and what a perfect father you are. He's very proud of you and your family, you know."

Don licked his lips and fought the urge to clinch his fists. "Dad is always telling me all these things that you are up to but he never tells me anything really personal about you, I mean, I know a lot about what makes you famous but almost nothing about your privet life."

"That's because he really doesn't know that much about my privet life. I think he's afraid to ask. I think he's afraid I'll tell him that I'm married to Mike or something." Charlie rolled his eyes. "To be honest, he wouldn't be far wrong. I mean we travel together constantly. If he isn't here, I'm in Washington. We work together, vacation together and bicker like an old married couple. We even own property together. Maybe we really are married and we just don't want to admit it."

Charlie stepped aside so his guest could precede him out into the hall. He turned off the light and closed the door behind him. Don expected them to continue on to the French doors at the end of the hall but instead they headed back towards the living room. Soon he found himself back in his comfortable chair with a fresh beer in his hands. He could hear the sounds of loud music and laughter from the adjacent apartments as the evening's festivities went into full swing. Charlie was pouring a glass of wine and settling on the couch. Don found himself looking the portrait of the beautiful dark haired woman that hung over the fireplace. He had seen several photographs of her throughout the apartment. Again he wondered just who she was and why had Charlie not mentioned her all evening? He thought of the two rooms his brother had neglected to include in his tour. Why would he give a tour and exclude those two rooms? What secrets did they hide?

But what was really weighing heavy on his mind at that moment, what was really burning a hole in his guts was the fact that this man, had referred to a group of strangers as his_ family _as his _brothers, _as if he, his real flesh and blood brother didn't matter. And then it hit him that those men shared Charlie's life in ways neither he nor his father ever could. They knew his secrets and he knew theirs.

Don felt all the frustration, all the resentment and anger that he had long denied even existed, rising from the deepest part of his soul. All of the hurt and pain and feelings of betrayal, all of his darkest thoughts about his brother— thoughts that he had suppressed for six long years, came to a head and before he could stop himself, the words that he had wanted to say for so long spewed from his lips like venom.

"You selfish bastard, do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?" He said so furious his hands were trembling.

Charlie froze, his dark eyes locked on his brother's, his wine glass poised halfway to his lips.

"Nothing has changed with you, has it, Charlie. You are still playing those same stupid games you've played for years." Don knew that he was going too far, but this had been building up for six years and now he couldn't stop. He took a deep breath and continued his tirade. "Of all the things Dad tells me about you, do you know what sticks out most in my mind? It's not when your next idiot book is coming out or your next excursion across Africa. What hits me the hardest is the terrified look in his eyes when he tells me you have been 'deployed' somewhere, that you will send word when you can and not to worry. How the hell is he supposed to do that, little brother, how the hell is he supposed to not worry?" Don stood up and took a step towards his brother. "Do you have any conception of the damage you did when you disappeared? Dad aged ten years. I held him while he wept night after night. He had two heart attacks, Charlie, two. He nearly died. I took care of him like I always take care of everything, like I took care of Mom when you couldn't handle her illness, like I took care of Dad when Mom died. Where were you then, Charlie?" He took another step towards the man who was watching him the way a mongoose watches a cobra getting ready to strike. "Don't you have anything to say to me Charlie; don't you feel you owe Dad something? Don't you feel you owe _me_ something? Is there no humility or shame left anywhere in you?" Don clinched his teeth and shouted. "Come on, answer me Charlie for once in your self-centered life, please, just answer me!"

For a long moment there was no sound except the soft strains of Chopin and the two men's breathing. Charlie sat his glass down on the table. His eyes revealed nothing of the agony within his soul or of the torment that consumed him in those last few hours of last night of the year. Slowly he rose to his feet and in a voice as quiet and calm as midnight he spoke, "What do you expect of me Don? You know nothing of my life these last years; you know nothing of what I've…lost." His composure almost slipped for a moment but he steadied himself and continued on. "Dad and I came to terms with our problems nearly two years ago so leave him out of this. As for the rest, I owe you no explanation for the things I've done. I could tell you that I did what I had to do back then, that I had no choice, but in reality I did have a choice, I didn't have to leave, I could have said no to all of it, stayed within my comfort zone and hidden behind your skirts as I always did. That's what I could have done, but If I had, I would have endangered you, Dad, Robin, Larry and everyone else I loved, so I made the decison to leave and take my misery with me even if it cost me everything I cherished, which in the end, it did." Now he took a step towards his brother.

"So go ahead, Don and blame me for every bad thing that has happened in the last six years. If it helps you to sleep at night, you can hate me, please, be my guest. And if you need something more to make you feel better, to make you feel like I've somehow been punished for my actions then just know that I have paid dearly for every mistake, every sin I've ever committed. Perhaps it will make you happy to know that I continue to pay every waking moment of every day and probably will for the rest of my life. I've seen more men die then you will in a lifetime. I've scraped my friend's brains off my jacket and held another while he bled to death, all before breakfast, so if you are waiting for me to fall to my knees and beg for absolution, well you are in for a long damned wait because, my dear brother, your forgiveness is something I simply do not require." He turned and walked away leaving his dumbfounded brother to watch as he opened the French doors and stepped out into the freezing dark of the terrace.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter From the Storm

Chapter Five

Don Eppes felt paralyzed with shock. His brother's final utterly serene, almost chilling words still hung in the air, a cutting indictment of his own pompous arrogance. He felt as if he couldn't breathe and his heart raced in his chest. Suddenly he felt dizzy and tiny specks of light swirled before his eyes forcing him to squeeze them tightly shut. From the neighboring apartment, he could hear the thumping beat of dance music, accompanied by a woman's shrill, drunken laughter. The sounds of impromptu celebration mixed with the constant din of traffic from the congested, all but impassable street below, filtered in through the open terrace doors. _'Oh my God, what have I done?'_ He thought mortified to his very bones.

Don clenched his fists into tight balls as tiny seeds of guilt began to take root in his mind. He tried in vain to extinguish those fledgling buds before they could take hold. He made a valiant effort to rationalize his cruel outburst by reminding himself that everything he had just said to his brother was the honest truth, that the little jerk needed to hear firsthand just how much damage he had caused over the last six years, that it was high time the _genius_ realized that he was _not_ the most important person in the world and that _his_ needs most definitely did not supersede everyone else's. Up to this point, Charlie had seemingly ambled through life doing whatever he chose with impunity. No matter what offense he committed, no matter how selfish his actions or devastating the results to those around him, there were never any consequences for the esteemed Dr. Eppes.

For years now, that seeming immunity from accountability that encompassed his brilliant baby brother's charmed existence had galled Don no end. From the day his amazing skills with the indecipherable mystery that was mathematics had been discovered, praise had been heaped on his curly head inflating his ego to mammoth proportions. Even his smallest accomplishments became legend, all because of an aberration in his genetic make-up that allowed him to calculate complicated equations in a single bound like some intellectual Superman.

Everyone had always protected the young genius and treated him like he was a national treasure, like his work was far too valuable to interrupt for such ordinary things as paying his bills or keeping lunch engagements with his brother. He would stand in front of those chalk boards for days at a time until he looked like death warmed over and either his big brother or their father would take the chalk out of his hand and remind the mathematician that human beings, unlike computers, require sleep, occasional sustenance—and that a little fresh air and sunshine wouldn't hurt.

That same older brother, who so devotedly took care of his gentle, scholarly sibling, had been forced to go it alone for much of his youth while his parents struggled with raising a prodigy. The end results of that perceived abandonment being that he became fairly self-sufficient at a young age, a trait that would serve him well over the years. At eighteen, Don Eppes had been far more mature than many of his peers would be at thirty or ever for that matter. He had never been that stereotypical thirty-five year old 'guy' stumbling through his days like a drunken frat boy. He lived a responsible, hardworking, dutiful life while Charlie just went on his self-absorbed way, totally oblivious to the wreckage and ruin he left in his wake.

Still dazed by his verbal assault on his brother, Don wanted to believe that he had only given Charlie what he had deserved for a very long time—a good, healthy dose of reality, that he had reminded the conceited, spoiled brat that he can continue to live life believing that his actions affected no one other than himself, but at the end of the day, it was their father who had paid by suffering two heart attacks.

Don felt a shudder run through his body as he pictured the look in Charlie's eyes as he battered him with those damning words. Once upon a time, he could almost read his brother's mind just by looking into those eyes. He could always tell if his brother was lying by the way he looked to the side or if he was going to try and tell a joke, usually a very bad joke, by the funny, shy way he squinted—and he knew how badly it hurt him when Amita returned his ring, even though the busy, young professor buried himself in his work and pretended to be indifferent about his broken engagement. He had tried to convince everyone, himself included, that he didn't care all that much. He had succeeded in deceiving most of those around him, but he had not fooled the big brother who knew his little brother so well. Don had seen the truth in his confused, sad eyes.

Now, standing in Charlie's beautiful home on New Year's Eve, Don sadly realized that the harshness of life, the years and perhaps the distance between them had changed things. Charlie's face was no longer an open book and those once animated, bright, intelligent orbs were now shadowy pools that hid more secrets than he cared to imagine. There was something dark behind those enigmatic eyes, something cold—Charlie's eyes now frightened Don and once again he had to ask himself, this time in a soft whisper "My God, what have I done?"

Don took a deep breath. He forced himself to face the fact that no matter how he tried to rationalize his behavior, or convince himself there was some noble purpose guiding his actions, he had struck out at his brother with the sole intention of hurting him. He _wanted_ see Charlie suffer like their father had suffered; like _he_ had suffered. He _wanted_ to see his apparently uncaring brother in pain so, using words as his weapon of choice, he had gone for the jugular, he had struck hard and deep—and he had drawn first blood. But there was no joy in his victory, no satisfaction in his triumph. Instead of elation, he felt only shame.

Suddenly Don desired only one thing— he wanted to run, to hide behind locked doors, leaving this train wreck of a New Year's Eve far behind. There, in the privacy of his room, he would wait for Charlie to go to bed so that he could slither away in the predawn hours like some serpent that, after piercing unsuspecting flesh with razor sharp fangs, injects its deadly venom then crawls away on its belly and disappears into the tall grass. As tempting as the thought was, as much as he desired to put as many miles between that apartment, his brother and himself as he possibly could, cowering in his room to avoid dealing with the damage he had just inflicted was not an option he could accept.

Many words had been used to describe Agent Don Eppes, some good, some less than complimentary. He had been dubbed a hard-ass, demanding, unyielding and a bit overbearing. Many thought, in his professional life at least, he had little or no sense of humor and they were not entirely wrong in that assessment. There was very little funny in much of what he had dealt with throughout his years with the Bureau and the ugliness that often permeated his job bled over into other aspects of his life. Of all his innumerable faults and virtues, of all the admittedly legitimate accusations aimed in his direction, no one ever had or ever would accuse the agent of cowardice. Tonight would be no exception.

Don took a deep breath and remembered something his father once said to him. It was on the elder Eppes man's birthday and family and friends had gathered at the Craftsman to celebrate. The party was winding down and the guests leaving when Larry Fleinhardt had inadvertently let it slip that Charlie had called and he was doing well, that it had taken a while but he had almost completely recovered from the bout of pneumonia that had nearly killed him several months before. A stunned Don remembered handing one of his sleeping daughters to Robin so she could put her in the back seat of the SUV and following his father to the garage.

Oooooooooooooooo

"_Why didn't you tell me?" Don had demanded. _

"_For the same reason you didn't tell me when some maniac kidnapped and tortured him; there was nothing you could do! Your own son had just had his appendix removed. He needed you, your wife had just given birth and she needed you. Taking care of your family was your job. Taking care of Charlie was mine." had been Alan's brusque reply. "Besides the two of you weren't exactly close. As far as you're concerned, you have no brother. You used those very words just last week. How many times have you told anyone who dares to say his name in your presence, that your brother never came home, that you have mourned him and put him in the past where he belongs?" He shot Don a dismissive gesture and started to walk away._

_"But, Dad…" Don started to say._

_Alan Eppes had stopped him with a look the agent remembered all too well from childhood, a look that said the discussion is over, go to your room. "Charlie is fine now; in fact he's off traipsing across New Zealand with that pack of his." The patriarch of the Eppes clan had sat on the worn old wicker sofa. Don joined him and for the first time in years they spoke of the missing member of their shattered family as Alan revealed how close he came to never receiving that call and how just how very close they came to losing Charlie forever._

_Mike Donovan paced back and forth in front of the hospital like a tiger trapped in a cage too small to contain its wrath. It was late and he so tired he was numb. Less than an hour before, the doctors had sat him down and told him it did not good look. His friend was a fighter, but he had waited too long to seek medical attention and he was a very sick young man. It might be advisable to contact his family, just in case. Mike wanted to grab that doctor by the collar. He wanted to shake him until he understood that he, Will Jennet and Gus Holiday were Charlie's family. They had seen each other through joyous, triumphant times and heartbreaking, soul-crushing tragic ones. Together they shared the abject misery of war and together they had stood in the driving rain and laid their buddies to rest. _

_As brothers, they shared the laughter of good times and as brothers, they saw each other through long, stone-cold nights when the ghosts just wouldn't stay buried. They were a pack, bonded for life by blood and unity and they did not willingly tolerate the presence of outsiders among their midst and the Eppes family were the very definition of the word 'outsiders'. There was no one to call, Charlie's 'family' was already at his side and he would not be alone, not even for one moment._

_Mike ran his hand over his face. He had made many tough choices in his career, some that had cost men their lives. It was never easy but he made those soul-killing choices because it was his job. This decision was one of the toughest he had faced in a long time. Mike hung his head, his eyes tightly closed. Not one member of Charlie's so-called 'family' had bothered to get in touch with him in years. Why should they be called in now? _

_Finally, at the end of his emotional rope, the marine let his fatigue and hot-tempered nature get the better of him for a moment. He punched the wall a few times in frustration garnering a little more attention from a security guard that he wanted. What it came down to in the end, was that Mike had to make a choice to either do the right thing and contact Charlie's family or let it go and face the consequences for his actions later. _

_After much agonizing and soul searching Mike came to a difficult conclusion. As much as he disliked two thirds of the Eppes' clan, the last thing he wanted to have to do was call them to tell them Charlie had died, not in some far, distant land, but in a hospital a few hours by air from L.A. In the end, he knew that he had to make that call. He leaned against the wall he had just punched and rubbed his exhausted eyes, now the choice was not whether to call, but which of Charlie's relations he could stomach the best. To Mike, choosing between them was akin to choosing between dying from arsenic poisoning or strychnine, both were extremely unpleasant, both best avoided at all costs. In the end, he chose the lesser of two evils__—__arsenic. At least he didn't associate it with a forced, sardonic grin. _

_Mike lifted his phone, checked the contact list he tried to keep current just in case he had to make one of those dreaded visits to one of his men's next of kin. He reluctantly hit the button and waited while the call went through. _

_Alan Eppes' voice on the other end was heavy and sluggish. It was then Mike realized it was three AM and he had awakened him from a sound sleep. He started to announce himself, but a now fully awake Alan charged ahead, cutting him off midsentence. _

"_Hello, hello, who is this?" The elderly man demanded, panic rising in his voice. At Alan's age, a phone ringing at three AM never bode well. It usually meant someone was dead and when your son's chosen career was fraught with as many dangers as working for the FBI presented, the worst possible scenario came to mind first, "Don, has something happened to Don?" He was on his feet in a split second, his heart in his throat as he waited for an answer._

_Those terrified words cut through Mike like a knife. 'You have two sons, old man, in case you've forgotten.' He thought. For a second Mike hesitated. He seriously considered muttering, 'Sorry, wrong number,' and hanging up, but instead he steeled himself to do what his conscience told him was right. "Alan, its Mike Donovan, Charlie's friend." He said doing his best to hide his true feelings from the man on the other end of the conversation._

_There was a long silence. The tone in Alan's voice noticeably changed as he realized the call was not about his oldest. "Of course, Mike, I remember you." The last word trailed away as he remembered that Don was not the only one of his two sons often in harm's way. It was as if an icy finger touched his heart. "Has something happened to Charlie?" He asked petrified of the words that might follow._

"_Alan, Charlie, ahhh he's, he's very sick. He has pneumonia and he__…__" There was a catch in his voice. "The doctors aren't sure he's going to make it. I thought you should know." Mike said and waited for a response. _

"_I don't understand. Where is Charlie? What happened?" Alan demanded._

"_He's in Bellingham at St. Joseph's. I found him unconscious on the floor of the living room of my house. I took him to the closest clinic and he was air lifted to...look, none of that matters. I only phoned to let you know in case you and Agent Eppes wanted to see him." Mike said through clenched teeth._

"_I'll be there as soon as I can. Please, let my boy know that I'm coming." Alan said._

"_Sure, I'll let him know." Mike said, biting his tongue to keep from remarking on Alan referring to Charlie as 'my boy'. He gave the elder Eppes man his phone number so he could call with his flight information as soon as he had it. Mike promised that he would send a car to pick him up when he arrived and bring him directly to the hospital. 'Yeah, old man, you can deal with Will Jennet on that long drive from the airport. I wish you luck with that.' He thought as he hung up._

_Mike knew he had made Alan a promise but he didn't tell Charlie his father was on his way because he had made another promise earlier, one he had just broken. When he had suggested to his friend that perhaps they should contact his family, Charlie had frantically made him swear on his honor as a Marine that he would NOT call them no matter what, not even if he was at death's door. _

"_Let it go, Moose, please just let it go. I don't need them, I don't want them," he had pled as Mike tried to calm him by assuring him that he would not call anyone, that everything was going to be okay, that he should sleep now. _

_As Alan Eppes packed and made airline reservations, he came to a similar decision where Don was concerned. Knowing his oldest son was already consumed with worry over his child, Alan decided not to tell him the truth about Charlie's condition until he had no choice. Don had enough on his plate caring for Justin, a new baby and his wife. Alan did not want to add concern for his brother to his already distraught mind. He told his oldest son that an old friend of his in Seattle had taken a fall and needed his help. Since his grandson was now out of the woods, he was going to go and stay him until he got back on his feet. Don had been so involved with his own problems he hadn't really questioned his father's sudden departure. _

_For Charlie the entire episode was, for the most part, a series of fever dreams. He would wake occasionally to find his friends constantly there. Mike was always bathing his face with cool water, holding his head when he choked on the fluids drowning him, or just hovering close. One morning he woke to a gentle kiss on his forehead and he opened his eyes expecting to see Alexia or one of the other ladies that shared the apartment next to his. They had visited him earlier but Mike made them leave because they kept sobbing and Destiny tried to sneak a bottle of Dom into the room. To her rather skewed way of thinking, there was absolutely nothing good champagne and Xanax couldn't cure. But instead of one of his beautiful lady friends, he saw the craggy face of his father and he panicked. _

"_I'm glad to see you're awake, son, you've been asleep for a long time." Alan Eppes sounded worried._

"_Dad, why are you here?" Charlie shook his head his voice barely a whisper. The small effort caused his fragile body to be racked by a series of deep bone shattering coughs. _

"_Hey," Alan gently stroked his son's cheek and supported his head, "Don't talk Charlie, the doctors don't want you to talk. You need to rest."_

"_No, no, you need to be with Don! Everything is supposed to be about Don now, I'm not important anymore. Please, just go home." Shoving the older man's hands away and fighting for every breath, Charlie had turned away from his father. "Mike, make him leave me alone, tell him to go home. I can't…I can't…" He sobbed. _

_He felt Mike's hand gently squeeze his shoulder. "Calm down partner, you need to calm down."_

_Alan Eppes felt like someone had hit him in the guts. The little boy who once curled up in his lap for a story when he was sick or afraid didn't want him! Feeling as if his heart was breaking, he leaned over his son and gently whispered, "Charlie, Justin is going to be fine. It was a close call, but he's going to make a full recovery." He tenderly took Charlie's hands in his. "Donnie is home taking care of his baby, please let me take care of mine." He said his voice hoarse with tears. "Please, I'm so sorry I hurt you and I want to help you now. Please let me."_

_The ailing man had only looked at his estranged father, confusion in his dark eyes. He didn't say a word, but he didn't shove the older man away either. Finally, Charlie turned to the friend standing at his bedside. "Moose, I'm going to kick your ass," he weakly whispered._

_The marine reached down and brushed the unruly curls from his hot, dry forehead. "You get well, Rock and I just might let you," he said softly._

_Charlie's eyes had fluttered shut. "So tired," he whispered._

"_Go to sleep. We'll all be here when you wake up." Mike smoothed the covers over Charlie._

_For three days, Charlie knew nothing more. If he regained consciousness at all, it was for brief moments and he had little or no memory of it. For three days he, as Will put it, 'looked at life from around the corner'. On more than one occasion, Alan was on the verge of calling Don but the elder Eppes man decided to wait. Justin was no longer in danger but he was still a sick little boy and very uncomfortable. He needed his Daddy, and Robin, who had given birth only a month before needed her husband. Her last pregnancy had been difficult and perilous. Both she and the baby were now doing well but the sudden illness of her oldest child had taken a real toll on her. Besides, what could Don do besides sit at Charlie's bedside with the rest of them and worry. Then after a very bad night when it seemed he might not last until morning and Alan feared he had waited too long to call his oldest, Charlie, always one to pull a rabbit out of his hat and surprise everyone, began to rally. _

_The rapid, shallow breathing that had so terrified them all, eased a bit. When his father squeezed his hand, he squeezed back, very feebly, but at least he seemed to know Alan was there. Towards morning, the raging fever that had plagued his weakened body at long last started to break. He opened his eyes and for the first time in days recognized those around him. Charlie looked at Mike and motioned for his friend to lean close. "If I don't make it__…__"_

"_I don't want to hear it, little partner, it's way too soon for you to run with the Ghost Pack. You're just going to have to put up with our bullshit for a while longer." A wholly weary Mike Donovan's voice broke as he squeezed Charlie's hand tighter. _

"_Shut up and listen, Donovan, this is important, if I don't make it, I need for you to know that," He looked at Gus and Will standing at the foot of the bed, "if you let those two sing Hank III songs at my funeral, I swear to God and Sig Sauer that, I'll haunt all of you forever. Heed my words, there'll be chains rattling in the attic and disembodied screams from the closet." He had clasped his friend's hand and given them all a faint smile._

"_The smartass is back, I'd say that's a good sign." Mike laughed and looked at the others, relief evident in his eyes._

_"Sorry if I scared you." Charlie looked at his friend. _

_"Hell, I wasn't worried in the least; I always knew you'd pull through, never doubted it for a moment. You might be the runt of the litter, but you are a scrappy little thing." Mike said ruffling Charlie's sweat damp hair._

_Charlie scowled at his friend. "You make me sound like a freaking Jack Russell Terrier." _

_"Shit boy, you're always so fuckin' hyper, yapping figures at us, worryin' the balls off a hound dog with that al-go- rhymin' bullshit that I swear to God you just make up half the time." Gus piped in. "The boys don't call you 'Crazy Doc. C for nuthin ya know. More 'en once I wanted to dose your kibble just to shut you up."_

_"Assholes…" Charlie said weakly and smiled as he drifted off to sleep._

_Mike tucked the blanket around Charlie's body. He caught Alan's eyes for an instant. The old man was pale and shaky. "Will, take Mr. Eppes to my room at the hotel. See to it he gets some food and rest." Alan started to open his mouth in protest. "You won't be any good to anyone if you collapse. We'll take care of him until you get back." He looked at his sleeping friend. "After all, we've taken care of 'your boy' for the last four years without your assistance; I think we can manage for a few more hours." He knew it was childish, but Mike just couldn't resist taking a shot at Alan Eppes. _

_Charlie spent another week recovering in the hospital. Finally, with a handful of prescriptions and strict orders to rest he was released into the care of his father and Mike. The next day, as he prepared to leave, his doctor stopped by his room and re-iterated to Charlie's caretakers exactly what he meant by his instructions. He turned his glare pointedly towards Will and Gus; there was to be no excitement, no exposure to cigar smoke and no alcohol. Then his beady eyes shifted towards Charlie; there was to be no trudging through the woods looking for something to photograph, and absolutely no work of any kind. He didn't care that mathematics was mental and not physical; rest meant exactly that__—__rest. _

_He had then turned towards, Mike and Alan, "If he develops even the slightest fever or has the least bit of difficulty breathing, get him to the nearest hospital immediately, no delays. We pulled his nuts out the fire this time; I doubt we can do it again." _

_Mike helped Charlie into the back seat of the Range Rover and Alan slid in beside him. As they pulled out of the hospital parking lot Mike, instructed Charlie that he was to tell them as soon as he got tired and they would stop for the night, he didn't care if it took three days to get home. The first leg of the drive to the cabin was awkward to say the very least and of course, Charlie said nothing about needing to stop even though he felt like he wanted to jump out of the car. His caretakers only came to realize the mathematician had had enough when he slumped against the window. Mike immediately took the next off-ramp cursing pigheaded intellectuals everywhere. _

_"You know this is how you got into this predicament in the first place." Mike scolded as he tucked his friend into bed at the hotel. "The day I took off to meet Alexia in Seattle, I told you to run into town and see Dr. Lester for that cough. You swore you would."_

_"I know, Mike." Charlie said, glancing at his father who was standing behind the marine, an amused look on his face._

_"But did you, no? YOU had to get some shots of some damned pond or something equally ludicrous while the light held. And after you got caught in the rain, despite all your training, did you have sense enough to seek shelter? No, not until you were soaked to the damned bone. Finally my genius partner, did you even for one moment think to call Neil because you were too sick to drive yourself to the doctor? No, you didn't want to bother him." Mike stood with his hands on his hips. "You fucking near died because you're a considerate neighbor."_

_"Mike, why are asking me questions if you're going to answer all of them yourself?" Charlie asked. _

_"Because you really pissed me off, Eppes! I come home from a great weekend with my woman," Mike chose to ignore Charlie's shocked expression at his referring to Alexia as 'his woman', "and there you are face down on the living room floor. I thought you were dead for a second. I swear if you weren't so sick I'd have made you put on a full pack and give me twenty miles, I may do that yet!" He turned his gray eyes on Alan. "I swear I can't leave him alone for a second without him getting into trouble, isn't that right Lucy?" He hissed and pushed past the older man. "I'm going to go grab a beer. YOU babysit the boy wonder for a while." He glared at Charlie, "When I come back, I'll bring you some soup and a cup of that snobby tea you like. For now, get some goddamned rest." Mike left for the hotel bar muttering to himself as he went._

_Charlie had raised his eyebrows for a second. "Damn, maybe we really are married." he said with a tired grin, closed his eyes and fell asleep. _

_Late the next day, they arrived at Mike's house. Alan offered Charlie his hand to help him from the car, but the young man refused. "I'm not helpless," He said pushing the hand away. He saw the look in Mike's eyes when he had to stop and catch his breath for the third time while climbing the steep stairs to his room. "If you even try to pick me up and carry me, I will bite you." He said and continued on under his own power. _

_He spent the next two days in bed being waited on hand and foot by his father. They said little to each other. It was as if both of them were afraid to be the first to open up. On the third day the mathematician felt a little stronger and he made his way downstairs. He was sitting on the couch propped up on some pillows reading a book when his father placed a wooden TV tray in front of him and sat a bowl of steaming hot vegetable beef soup and a glass of juice on it._

"_I thought you'd like some lunch," he said sitting beside his son. "As I recall, you always liked my soup."_

_"Thanks Dad." Charlie said marking his place in the book. Sitting it aside, he took the spoon and tasted the rich soup. "This is really good. I see you're still a great cook." He smiled._

_"I'm surprised you don't use one of those e-readers. I thought everyone used those now. Even I have one." Alan said nodding at the hardback book. _

_"Oh, I have one. I just prefer the real thing sometimes. I mean curling up in front of a warm fire with a cup of tea and an e-reader doesn't have quite the same feel does it?" He said._

_Alan chuckled then fell silent for a long time. "You know, son, I__…I'm…__" _

_Charlie reached out and patted his father's hand. "It's okay Dad," he said softly. _

_That had been the beginning. Over the next few days the two Eppes men spent a lot of time catching up and Alan spent a lot of time cooking for his son. On the day the older man had to leave to catch a plane for home they stood on the porch awkwardly saying goodbye. Alan tried to give Charlie a hug before he picked up his bag and rushed to the car but the younger man had sidestepped his gesture and Alan wondered at that moment when he would see his boy again, if ever. That question was answered by Charlie who shouted as his father closed the car door, "Dad, my publisher has box seats at Yankee Stadium. Maybe we can go to a game this July? I'll send you a ticket and you can see my place," he grinned. "I think you'll like my neighbors."_

_Alan smiled knowing his son was not really much of a sports fan and that taking him to a game was his way of reaching out. "Humm, box seats at Yankee Stadium, I guess I can tolerate New York City in July," he said._

_"Great! Dad, call me when you get home, okay?" Charlie smiled and waved. Alan nodded, waved goodbye and closed the car door. _

_Months later sitting on the worn sofa in the garage, Alan sighed and looked at his fuming older son with a touch of sadness in his eyes. "Don, we try but things are not the same between your brother and me, maybe they never will be again and I know the fault is mine. I guess I waited too long to try to heal things between us. I will always regret that." His voice broke. _

"_Dad, please just answer me, why didn't you tell me about Charlie? I understand I had my own problems but I also had a right to know my brother was sick, I had a right to be there if he__…__" Don said shaking his head. _

"_Because considering how you felt about Charlie, for you to have sat at his bedside on some deathwatch would have seemed__—__hypocritical." Alan said pointedly. "Besides, he didn't want you there."_

_Don flew to his feet, feeling as if his father had just slapped him across the face. _

"_Son," Alan continued, reaching for his oldest son's wrist. "Please take the advice of a stubborn and prideful old man and try to remember the brother you once loved. Life is far too short to hold on to old grudges. You know, sometimes we aren't given second chances, Donnie, I don't want you to spend your life regretting what you threw away." _

_Don stood still reeling from the things he had just learned. He had gazed into the older man's eyes and saw an aging parent hoping to mend the rift in his family before he left this life. For a moment he hesitated, for a moment he considered his father's well-intentioned advice__—__and without another word he jerked his wrist free, turned on his heels and left the garage. As stubborn and as prideful as Alan could be, he had nothing on his eldest son. Bristling with sanctimonious, indignant anger, Don gathered up his family and loaded them in the car to drive home. _

oooooooooooooooo

Don could hear the sound of his own ragged breathing. Somewhere someone was playing an old Gordon Lightfoot tune, '_Song for a Winter's Night' _and he remembered his parents dancing slowing in each other's arms on New Year's Eve so many years ago.

_The lamp is burning low upon my table top,_

_The snow is softly falling_

_The air is still in_

_The silence of my room,_

_I hear your voice softly calling_

On the first New Year's Eve after their mother passed away Don remembered waking to the soft somber strains of that same old song. He had quietly descended the stairs to find their Dad sitting by the fireplace, gazing at her wedding photograph, a glass of their mother's favorite wine in his hands, and a small smile on his face.

_If I could only have you near_

_To breathe a sigh or two_

_I would be happy just to hold_

_The hands that I love,_

_On this winter's night with you._

His father's poignant words on that tense afternoon in the garage again echoed in his head,_ 'I don't want you to reach my age and look back over your life regretting what you threw away.' _Suddenly he understood what the old man had been trying to tell him, what he hadn't been ready to hear back then.

He felt the sting of tears as they ran down his cheeks. In the not too distant future, he knew their father would be only a sweet memory in all of their lives and that in truth, none of them were promised tomorrow. The years were rushing by far too rapidly for all of them and that he knew he truly did not want to wake up one day regretting the things that he had thrown away.

It wasn't going to be easy, in fact it would be one of the toughest tasks he had undertaken in years, but Don knew it was now time for all of them to let go of old grudges, and that for good or ill, he was going to have to go to his younger brother. He took a quick breath and opened his eyes. He hesitated for only a second longer then he crossed the room to the terrace doors and stepped out into a dark, frigid, winter's night.

T.C.B.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Six

The fierce, arctic storm that had dumped nearly a foot of snow, stranded travelers at airports, bus and train terminals and in cars along the interstates and roadways from North Carolina to Canada, had finally died down a bit. Don felt eternal gratitude for the respite from the constant moaning and whistling of the wind as it ricocheted off the tall buildings, tore across the terrace, and pounded the French doors until he feared the glass would shatter. Still, shivering in the dark and up to his ankles in snow, he felt as if microscopic needles of ice were piercing his flesh and he longed for the relative warmth of L.A.

Charlie on the other hand, seemed to be unaware of the subfreezing conditions as if he was impervious to the cold. He rested his hands on the ice encased railing, his gaze cast forward into the void even as a sudden gust caught the falling snow and sent it spiraling about the two brothers in a momentary waltz-gone-mad, and then subsided. Don moved slowly forward, knowing Charlie was well aware of his approach though he chose not to acknowledge it.

"Charlie I…" Don started to say.

"Beautiful isn't it? Of course, by late-afternoon the snowplows will have turned it all into gray, nasty, mushy piles but for a short time snow turns this wicked old town into a Currier and Ives print." He sighed, "A lot of writers describe snowfall as silent but it isn't. You don't notice it so much here in the City, there's too much ambient noise, but in the mountains, in the early morning hours just before dawn, you can hear it quite clearly. It's sort of a hushed sound, like a whisper or a—dying breath." The smaller man said his voice trailing away and Don knew that, in his head at least, Charlie was very far from New York City.

"Charlie I don't know what to say to you," Don whispered.

For a few moments, Charlie looked at his older brother, his eyes expressionless, not even blinking. Finally, he shrugged. "Then perhaps you shouldn't say anything at all; silence seems to work so well between us." With those few simple, straightforward words, he turned his back.

"Maybe there's been too much silence. Maybe it's time we changed that." Don said even as the thought touched his mind that perhaps far too many years and far too many transgressions now separated them. Don began to fear that his oft repeated proclamation that he 'had no brother', had, in the end, become reality.

The elder Eppes brother took a gulp of air and for a brief moment closed his eyes. Over the last six years, he had spent a lot of time not merely burning his bridges where his younger brother was concerned, but blasting those bridges into piles of smoldering rubble. Now, standing a few feet from a man he had spent a lifetime both loving and shunning, he knew it was going to be very difficult and excruciatingly painful to rebuild them if Charlie was even willing to try.

His heart heavy with sorrow, Don knew that it in all likelihood, it truly was far too late in the day for them and that the sun had finally set on their relationship for the last time. Sadly, there was no longer room in Charlie's life for a brother whose love and acceptance came with a laundry list of conditions and stipulations, a love that could turn cold with no warning. This good and gentle man standing in the frigid chill of a winter's night had simply had enough of pain.

Don hesitated for a second longer. The easiest thing for both of them would be if he turned around and crept back into the warmth of the living room. To let sleeping dogs lie would perhaps be the wise choice and the prudent choice. However, he was feeling neither wise nor prudent. At that moment, he was certain of only one thing…the fates had conspired to bless him with this one last chance and if he let it pass, it would never come again. He would truly have 'no brother'. Life would go on as if had for years but a little piece of his soul would be forever missing—and so he would try, even if his chances were less than zero, he would reach out for his brother and accept whatever came.

Don Eppes slowly moved forward until he stood beside the slender figure. "I…" He started to rest his hand on Charlie's shoulder but the younger man nimbly avoided his touch and moved away.

"I wish you could see the terrace in the spring and summer when the roses and the hydrangeas are in bloom. I once promised Mom that I'd always try to have a garden. I guess neither of us could have foreseen that I would attempt to grow flowers on a terrace in New York City." Charlie rested his thin hands on the back of an ornate wrought-iron chair.

"Hey, this terrace is bigger than my first apartment." Don said with a quick chuckle. Standing directly across from his brother, he rested his hands on the back of an identical chair, mirroring the younger man's stance. "Of course that's not really saying much. As I recall, that dump was not much more than a walk-in closet with a toilet."

Charlie smiled as they looked at each other across the snow-covered glass-topped table. His smile faded as he again moved towards the railing. He wrapped his arms around his now shivering body and stared out into the night.

Don moved until he stood at Charlie's side. "I…" He started to say.

"Don, I'm-I'm so proud of you, and I'm so happy for the way your life has turned out. I can remember when you were this, emotionally distant, isolated man. You were practically the poster boy for relationship-phobic guys everywhere. I always felt kind of…responsible for that. I used to worry about you, worry that you'd wind up alone, but I guess my fears were unfounded because look at you! You're a happily married man with a successful career, a gorgeous, brilliant wife, a houseful of kids, a couple of dogs and a cat. You've found peace with yourself and your faith. You are living the dream! Dad must be thrilled!" Charlie said a strange almost spectral glint in his eyes. "I can see that you're truly happy; it shows on your face. You've always deserved all the good things life has to offer, and I'm so glad that you've found them."

"You're not all that old, you know. There's still plenty of time for you to find…"

"Oh, God, Don," Charlie took a deep ragged breath and looked up into the sky, "you couldn't be more wrong. That ship sailed long ago! Some of us are just not meant to have that kind of happiness." He sounded very tired. "I guess some of us are just destined to be alone."

The FBI agent gazed at his younger brother. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling behind those guarded eyes. The snow had once again picked up, peppering his eyelashes and dark curly hair with minute lacy specks of white. He seemed smaller and thinner than Don remembered. Charlie had always been a slight man, now he appeared, almost frail.

He watched as the mathematician moved from the railing to one of the flower boxes. He bent and plucked a small weed from the mulch. Turning, he held out his hand displaying a tiny white wildflower encased in bead of crystal, clear ice.

"See this flower? It appears to be perfect, but remove its protective shield and…" Charlie closed his hand for a second and reopened it to reveal a wilted weed, "The facade of life melts away and you see that the flower has been dead for a long time." He took his older brother's hand in his own, placed the tiny wilted blossom in his palm, and turned away. "I don't let anyone, save a trusted few, past the ice; not even Dad. Oh, we've worked out some semblance of a relationship, but not even he gets close, not really. He knows little of my life these last years. I think he wants more but…," he shrugged, "it is what it is, I guess."

"Charlie, I…I just don't know what to do to…" Don stumbled over the words.

"What is it that you're trying to accomplish Don? You've made yourself perfectly clear. _'I have no brother'_. How many times have you used that phrase in the last six years?" Charlie paused for a second. "Don't look so damned surprised. You forget that, among other things, I'm a card carrying member of the intelligence community. My security clearance is the highest you can get. I knew about your last promotion long before you did congratulations by the way. You'd be surprised what I know. That's why people like us don't sleep a lot. We know what's out there. Believe me, you don't want to know. It would scare you shitless." He gave Don a minute to let that information sink in then he continued.

"Do you want to know the exact moment when I realized I no longer had a family? I spent the weekend in Carmel at a seminar on the interface between dimension theory and dynamical systems and when I came home, I found a note on the dining room table from Dad. It read like some break-up letter. He said he needed 'space' that he had moved in with Art and maybe it was best if we didn't contact each other for a while. Right next to it was a package wrapped in plain brown paper. Of course, I recognized your handwriting immediately. I thought it was really droll that you addressed me as _Dr. Charles Eppes_."

"At first I thought you were starting to soften towards me a little or perhaps that was just what I hoped was true, but of course—I was wrong." He looked deep into Don's eyes. "I opened the package and found that photo album I made for you of our trip to Washington. That trip had meant so much to me that I wanted to give you something very personal, something to show you how much you meant to me."

"I spent weeks picking out the pictures I thought best captured the spirit of the time we spent together, photo-shopping them, and putting the damned thing together. I was kind of nervous about it because well, big brother, you are not much on open displays of affection and I was still not very confident in my artistic skills. I was afraid you might laugh at me or make some joke about fledging photographers."

"I remember Dad had invited you and Robin to join us for dinner. It was Friday because you made that same old joke about Dad serving brisket. Later, after dessert, you and I went out on the patio while Robin and Dad talked; that's when, despite my reservations about how you would react, I gave you the album. You seemed genuinely touched at the time, at least that's the impression I got. I must have been mistaken because you returned it without even so much as a note telling me why."

"I had put my heart and soul into that gift and you didn't even deem it important enough to return in person! You sent it through the freaking mail. I suppose that was your way of symbolically ripping a piece of your clothing and telling me that I'm dead to you. I don't know why I was shocked, I shouldn't have been, but then, I always did underestimate you, Don." Charlie's eyes were flashing with the memory of the day when he had to accept that he had fought the good fight and lost. For him, there would be no forgiveness.

"I don't mind telling you that was a pretty rough month. I received a letter from the University officially terminating me. I had thirty days to appeal the decision but there was really no point. The L.A. office of the FBI decided they had no further need of my services at that time. I saw your thumb print all over that one, big bro. Finally, the two people I loved most in the world both kicked me to the curb on the same day and not one of you respected me enough to do the deed to my face."

"I had lost everything that mattered to me, Don and I had no idea where to go from there. I sat staring at that note and that album for the longest time. The only thought going through my head was what the hell was I going to do with all the things I had collected over the years and if Mike could help me pack them up and move them to— where-ever." He lifted his eyebrows a sarcastic smile on his face. "You should have kept the damned album, Don. People pay a lot of money for my work and some of those photographs are now very valuable. You could have hung on to it for a couple of years then, since my gift meant so little to you anyway, sold them and made a small fortune so, in that sense, I guess the joke was on you."

"Charlie, please, I'm so sorry… I just…I want to…" Don ran his icy hands over his mouth, his voice shaky with emotion.

"Do you remember the last time we saw each other?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah…yeah, of course, how could I forget it? I thought for sure someone was going to die and damn it, Charlie, I was terrified it was going to be you." He slowly shook his head. "I'll never forget that day." With those whispered words, he found himself transported from the freezing terrace on the Upper West Side back six years to a blistering hot afternoon in L.A.

oooooooooooooooooooo

_For nearly a week, the dry, scorching Santa Ana winds had whipped up the wildfires raging in the hills and canyons, blanketing everything in a thick haze of reddish orange smoke, ash, and soot. The entire city was on edge and Agent Don Eppes was no exception. He stood between two members of his long-time team, his jaw aggressively working, taking out his frustrations on the seventh piece of Rain flavored 5Gum of the day. His throat burned from the foul air and his shirt felt plastered to his chest like a poster on a bus station wall. His always too sensitive sinuses were so swollen from the foul air that he couldn't breathe and they pounded in protest. The bulletproof vest regulations required him to wear in any dangerous situation made the mind- numbing heat ten times worse__—__and he was beginning to chafe. _

_Don Eppes was at the end of his patience. For five intense, unbelievably long, miserable hours, dozens of highly trained law-enforcement personal had been waiting behind barricades in the oppressive heat while a lunatic with a high-powered rifle paced back and forth in the middle of an overpass. For hours, this lone madman had brought one of the most congested freeway systems in the world to a stand-still, effectively holding half the city hostage. He had refused all attempts to negotiate until his one demand was met, until Dr. Charles Eppes was present__—__then and only then would he agree to talk__—__and then he would talk with Doc C and no one else. _

_Under normal circumstances, the Bureau would make every possible effort to bring the situation to a rapid and peaceful resolution. If those efforts failed or if at any time, it appeared as if law enforcement or the public was threatened, strategically placed snipers were well prepared to use deadly force. THAT was how it worked__—__THAT was how it always worked, but this situation was anything but normal. _

_In an almost unprecedented move, the Director of the FBI himself had called from D.C. and ordered them to stand-down. Officials from the NSA, the CIA and Homeland Defense were taking control and the FBI was to cooperate fully with their fellow agencies but only as support. Don found that intolerable enough but it was when he learned what those black-ops, covert-type idiots had planned that his blood pressure had spiked to a dangerous level. Their brilliant strategy consisted of giving in to the assailant's demands, flying Charlie in by helicopter and sending him out alone to face an armed man who was beyond a doubt delusional and extremely dangerous. _

_Don immediately phoned the Director and adamantly insisted that his brother had worked for the Bureau as a consultant only, that he no longer worked for them in any capacity. He had absolutely no experience in dealing with a crisis, was not in the least qualified and should not be involved. Besides, placing civilians, even if they volunteer, in danger was a direct violation of Bureau policy. He had gone on to maintain that giving in to an assailant's demands flew in the face of everything they knew about negotiations and he had to issue a protest on both matters. _

_The Director had informed him in a less than cordial tone that he did not need a __**field**__**agent**__ to remind __**him**__ of Bureau policy! His concerns and his protests were duly noted, but there were mitigating circumstances, and before he could ask, the circumstances were 'need to know'__—__ and he didn't. That term pissed Don off no end. 'Need to know' was simply put, spook-speak for none of your damned business. _

_Don opened his mouth to remind his boss that Bureau procedures were in place for a reason but before he could speak, the Director informed him that these orders came, not from his office, but from the highest of levels. He expected them implemented without further question or delay__—__**especially**__ where Dr. Eppes was concerned. If Don had any reservations about his willingness to cooperate with other agencies then perhaps he and his team should excuse themselves, go back to the office and finish their paperwork. Moreover, while he was filling out forms, perhaps he should reassess his position. Perhaps he was no longer qualified to lead in the rapidly changing atmosphere of today's Bureau. Don, his face red with anger at the obvious rebuff, had terminated the conversation with a curt, 'Yes sir.' and informed his team that they were to hold fast but be prepared to move in if necessary._

_Being chastised by the Director like some rookie on his first assignment was humiliating to say the least, but it was nothing new. To call the FBI's multilayered supervisory structure adversarial and political was putting it mildly. What was REALLY causing Don to grind his teeth to nubs on that miserable afternoon, was the fact that he was obligated to take orders from a man he despised, a man he held at least partially responsible for the shattering of the family he once valued above all things__—__Col. Jeremiah Harrington. _

_The agent wanted more than anything to pretend the bastard didn't exist but try as he might, his eyes kept being drawn to him like a compass needle to magnetic north. Don couldn't help but notice how much the old man had changed in the year since he had forced his way into his office to confront him about Charlie. The lines on the old man's face were deeper; his salt and pepper hair was now more salt than pepper. His stance was still straight as an arrow but the trademark arrogance had faded to a ghost of its former self. He appeared to be a man defeated, a man just marking time until the close of day. The one thing that hadn't changed was his voice. It still had that edge Don remembered so well and he practically shuddered every time the old man barked out orders. _

_Standing at his side was a younger man who resembled the Colonel in many ways. He had the same almost imperialistic comportment, the same hawk-like features, the same no-nonsense attitude__—__and the same last name, 1__st__ Lt. Richard Harrington. While the older man was as agile as a cat, the younger Harrington walked bent over and with a pronounced limp. A deep, jagged scar that ran from his hairline, across one eye and faded at his chin marred the right side of his face. His right hand, disfigured from multiple badly set breaks, and deep burn scars that disappeared into the sleeve of his jacket, grasped a cane. Even with its support, Don could tell the man found walking or standing very difficult and he was in chronic pain. _

_Upon their arrival, the Colonel had introduced the younger man as his aide. Don was tempted to ask what had happened to his former aide, Paul Edmonson, but thought better of it. The old soldier was not a man prone to tolerating queries from someone he considered beneath him (i.e. anyone of a lesser rank and anyone who had never served as a Marine.) Don decided it was best just to let it go. At any rate, the whereabouts of Edmonson had nothing to do with their present dilemma. He had more immediate concerns. He was being forced to stand by silently and watch as Mike Donovan fitted his younger brother, a man he hadn't seen or spoken to in months, a man he had cut from his life with surgical precision, with an earwig preparing him confront an insane assailant who could very well kill him. _

_Don felt his fingers involuntarily tighten on the binoculars he held. His hands shook. With each passing hour, the man seemed to become more and more erratic. As distasteful as the prospect was, it looked as if the only way to end the impasse was for a sniper to take him out at the first opportunity. Sending an expert negotiator to reason with him had proved pointless. Sending Charlie, who had no training at all, was a moronic, dangerous move that was bound to end badly. Flying in the face of orders, Don opened his mouth to protest but stopped when he heard a crackle in his own device and Donovan's voice came through soon followed by Charlie's own. _

_"You're now wired, Dr. Eppes." Mike said and smiled. "You can hear us and we will be able to hear everything you say so keep that in mind before you flap your lips." _

_"Did you get the items I requested?" Charlie asked the younger Harrington. _

_"Yes sir, a fifth of Jack Daniels and two Cuban cigars, exactly as instructed." The aide said with a nod._

_"Thank you, Lieutenant." Charlie took the items and turned to walk away._

_Don frowned at the calm almost matter-of- fact tone in the younger man's voice, as if he was merely going for an afternoon stroll and not confronting a crazed gunman. This seemingly fearless man was not the brother he remembered. The Charlie he knew would be petrified__—__the Charlie he knew wouldn't step out on that overpass if you paid him. He would know it was not his job and beyond his skills. Don almost jumped when he heard a frustrated grunt from his left. Suddenly one of his most trusted agents got tired of waiting for him to act and stepped forward. _

_"Whoa, wait a minute." David Sinclair interjected as Charlie started to walk away. "Shouldn't he be wearing a vest? I'm sure we can…" _

_Charlie glanced at the African American agent standing next to his silent, glaring big brother, "For one thing, Gary Wheeler is a Marine sniper. If he wanted to shoot me, he'd aim for my head, not my chest and for another that rifle he's holding is an M16A4. It has a cyclic rate of around 800 RPM so that little vest of yours won't matter at all if he decides to fire__—__believe me, I know." He gave David a small reassuring smile. "Besides, Gary won't kill me. We owe each other too much." _

_Encouraged by his partner's actions, Colby Grainger decided to add his two cents, "Charlie, this man might be your friend, but right now he's not thinking straight. I should go with you. I've dealt with…" _

_"You he'll kill." Charlie said with a grateful grin at the way his old friends were trying to protect him even though they had barely spoken in months. "Thanks but, it's okay. I know what I'm doing." _

_He caught Don's eyes for a second. His brother had looked at him and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but in the end, he had only looked away. He wondered if Don could tell just how terrified he was at that moment. He doubted it. He doubted anyone save his closest friends knew. It was a skill hard learned, but now so ingrained as to be instinctive__, __never show fear__—never, __no matter what. To feel fear is natural, to show it is weakness and can get you killed. That calm, almost serene voice Don wondered at camouflaged a bevy of churning emotions and gave him at least the appearance of control. He took a quick breath, nodded at his partners and without another word, moved past the barricade and onto the overpass with Mike Donovan following close at his heels. _

_Charlie stopped for a second and scowled at his unwanted shadow who wordlessly scowled back. "Fine, play Daddy, but stop when I give the order. I do out rank you Gunnery Sergeant," He said. The marine only narrowed his gray viper-like eyes, "Well, I do, technically anyway!" Charlie quickly added and Mike nodded in agreement a bemused smile on his lips._

_Don's heart was in his throat. He stood watching through his binoculars inwardly cursing his sensitive sinuses, the heat, the smoke, the lunatic causing all this hell and his damn fool of a reckless brother. The tense mood was broken for a moment by Gus Holiday's deep gruff voice crackling through the earwigs for all to hear and dozens of pairs of eyes turned towards him._

"_Every time them boys goes saunterin' off together like that, I keep thinkin' Ennio Morricone music should be playin." He said with a chuckle as he chomped on a cigar and gazed through his binoculars at his friends as they headed towards the center of the overpass. "They got that Eastwood stride down pat. I swear they practice it."_

"_Fuck, Eastwood's the man! It don't get much better than The Good, The Bad and The Ugly." Will added watching intently through his. _

"_Shit, what about 'A Fist Full of Dollars'?" Gus huffed. "But the best of um' wuz fuckin 'For A Few Dollars More'."_

"_You're forgetting, 'Once Upon a Time in the West'." Will added. _

_Suddenly Mike Donovan's voice boomed through every earwig on the barricade, "Both of you shut up and adjourn the Sergio Leone Fan Club__—__ and 'Once Upon a Time' was Fonda and Bronson, not Eastwood, you fucking idiots!"_

_The two men glanced at each other. "I miss freakin' pre man-gina Eastwood." Will said nostalgically._

"_Me to, my friend, me to," Gus said with a sad sigh and a puff on his cigar._

_Don, the rest of his team and everyone else listening to the peculiar exchange stared at the two rather unkempt men dressed in fatigues for a second then at each other, but soon their attention was once again riveted on the pair quickly approaching the armed assailant who had held the city hostage for hours. He saw Charlie signal for Mike to stop and the mathematician continued for a few more steps. _

_"Eppes," Mike shouted. Charlie halted and looked over his shoulder. Mike reached in the pocket of his fatigue jacket and tossed a cigarette lighter to his partner. "No stupid chances, Eppes. At this range, that rifle can cut you half." Mike said the warning unmistakable in his voice._

_Charlie caught the lighter with ease. "I think the moment to avoid taking stupid chances has passed, don't you?" He said and proceeded on towards the troubled man. _

_He stopped a few inches from the tip of the barrel aimed squarely at his head and smiled, "Gary, you know you didn't have to pull something quite so melodramatic to get my attention. You have my number, you should have just called, we could have grabbed a beer," he said gently. "Now, please aim that damned thing down or at least take your finger off the trigger. I have plans for later and having my brains splattered all over the asphalt could ruin my entire evening. Besides, you know how I feel about the smell of gunpowder."_

"_Yeah, you don't much care for it." Gary said softly. "It's good to see you, Doc."_

"_It's good to see you too, Gary." Charlie raised his hands showing his old friend the bottle and the cigars, "See, I come bearing gifts," he said, "now, let's talk." _

_TCP_


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter From the Storm

Chapter Seven

_Charlie Eppes' observant, highly trained eyes meticulously scrutinized the surrounding area. It only took a few seconds for him to locate his objective. Taking into consideration the limited positions available to them, the elevation and the angle of trajectory, the FBI and SWAT had placed their snipers precisely where he would have if the choice had been his. He was tempted to wave a greeting since he knew several of the men personally but decided better of it. To paraphrase a line from one of his favorite movies, the FBI had no sense of humor of which he was aware. _

_Charlie remembered the first time he heard Tommy Lee Jones deliver that line in his trademark deadpan manner. He had instantly flashed on his older brother and he laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. Sometimes when Don was at his most serious and the no nonsense G-man persona reigned supreme, he got the same expression on his face that Tommy Lee used in the movie and it was all Charlie could do not to laugh._

_Choosing to ignore the weapons aimed in their respective direction, Charlie nodded at his heavily armed, extremely agitated friend. He took a moment to note Gary's apprehensive, rigid posture, the way his hands held the automatic weapon in a death grip, the steady, even breathing ingrained in all of them during their intensive training __—__ suck the air in through the mouth 1-2-3-4 and exhale slowly through the nose 1-2-3-4. This was a stance he knew all too well __—__ this was a man prepared for the inevitable battle to come. _

_Charlie's knees felt shaky and his heart raced. His mouth had gone dry and there was that all too familiar slightly metallic taste of fear that set his teeth on edge. As he stared into the haggard face of a man he considered a brother, he didn't have to speculate on what images danced behind those pale blue eyes __—__ he knew. Both waking and sleeping, the same nightmares had replayed themselves in his own head over and over again for months on end and it was only by sheer strength of will that they hadn't broken him __—__ not yet anyway. Tomorrow might be another story. _

_Charlie knew he was walking the razor's edge. Gary's fevered brain was on the brink and it was entirely possible if not probable that __—__ if someone behind that barricade or stationed on an adjacent overpass __—__ got antsy and made a stupid move, his friend would decide he was facing an EOF. The training would take over and he would instinctively respond to the threat, in short, Gary would open fire. The Feds would then be forced to respond in kind, and __**he**__ would be caught squarely in the middle, not at all a desirable location. _

_With lightning speed, the mathematician calculated every possible contingency and he came to only one conclusion __—__ if the soldier decided to fight, there was not a chance in hell that he could jump clear in time: collateral damage they called it, a clinical way of saying, 'sorry pal, but that's war, better luck in your next life'. _

_The younger man took a few tactical breaths of his own, calming himself and gaining control of his emotions. He pushed aside his impulse to drop the whisky and run back to the safety of the barricade and __— __damn it, yes __—__ his brother's protection. (Charlie felt a little disgusted with himself for that particular desire.) He narrowed his eyes. After everything he had survived in the last year, dying in a hail of bullets on a damned overpass was not in the least bit acceptable and neither was losing yet another friend. He made up his mind; no matter what it took or how long it took, both of them were going to survive the afternoon. The freaking Feds could just cool their heels and wait. _

_Hiding behind a facade of feigned bravado he prayed was convincing enough, Charlie pulled himself up to his full 5' 6", 148 lb stature, shook off the last of his misgivings, smiled and pointed towards the guardrail that ran along the edge of the overpass. "Come on, let's sit down," he said hastily glancing towards an increasingly edgy FBI sniper positioned less than one hundred yards to their left. "I've been working with that slave driver Donovan all week and my back is killing me." _

_He herded Gary towards a tall support column that rose to the not yet completed top tier of the overpass. "You sit there and lean against the rail. I'll sit right here." The two men slid to the hot concrete. Charlie assessed their positioning. He was less than two feet from Gary, easily shielding his friend's body but there was another problem. "You're taller than me so scrunch down a little until my head is above yours," he instructed._

_From behind the barricade, Agent Don Eppes watched in appalled bewilderment as his brother apparently planned to share a drink or two with a dangerous, armed freak. "What the fuck is he doing?" He muttered, shaking his head in disgust._

_He had warned the idiots running this dog and pony show that it was a mistake to send Charlie, and, as was usually the case, __**he**__ was being proven one hundred percent correct. The situation had been dire enough to begin with, now his idiot brother had only managed to complicate things tremendously. _

_Prior to Charlie's inexplicable antics, this maniac had been alone so the option to take him out had been on the table. Now, for all intents and purposes, he had a hostage…a hostage who had knowingly placed himself directly in the line of fire! Don muttered a string of expletives under his breath, cursing his Director, the NSA and foremost, the stubborn mathematician they had sent to do a Bureau negotiator's job. His sour mood was not improved in the least by the man standing a few feet away who, for whatever reason, felt the need to interject his two cents. _

_"Have a little faith… Agent Eppes," Will Jennet said never lowering his binoculars, his eyes locked on three of his closest friends. "If anyone can talk Wheeler back to earth, it's the Doc. Or had you rather just kill the man without even trying… Agent Eppes?" He took a puff on his cigar. _

_Don immediately picked up on and chose to ignore the sarcasm in that crusty voice. He frowned and moved so Colby and David stood between himself and Charlie's less than reputable 'entourage'._

_Gary Wheeler quickly followed Charlie's orders. He ran the back of his hand over his sweaty, gritty forehead. "Doc," he said in a deceptively composed voice. "I know I'm kind of…. messed up right now but I'm still a trained sniper. I spotted 'em, a while ago and I know you know where they put 'em so why are you placing yourself directly in their crosshairs?" He asked making adjustments to the angle of his body so he could quickly jump to his feet and defend his position if attacked._

_Charlie tossed him one of the Chohibas and the lighter. The desperate man caught it and lit the cigar tossing the lighter back to Charlie who followed suit. _

"_Because at this distance with the current windage and the updrafts off this overpass, they can't shoot you without taking a big chance on hitting me. I'm far too valuable a commodity so they won't risk it," he smiled a self-satisfied smile, pulled his knees up towards his chest and wrapped his arms around them as if he was simply shooting the shit with an old friend on a Sunday afternoon. _

_Charlie took a drag on his cigar and slowly let out a puff of smoke. "My brother however is a different story. He just might decide you twitched wrong and forced him to act. It wouldn't be the first time he took a shot that wasn't his to take." Charlie rolled the cigar between his thumb and pointer. "The only thing holding him back at the moment is his Director, the NSA__—__ and maybe the distance and windage," he took a swig of the whiskey and handed the bottle to the man sitting so close their feet were almost touching. "But I wouldn't count on any of that for protection. Don has a habit of cold heartedly__ disposing of __things he no longer has a use for, old copies of Sports Illustrated, VHS tapes, old clothes…younger brothers," he added bitingly. _

_Behind the safety of the barricade, the Eppes in question clenched his left hand into a tight fist as the pain behind his eyes increased. He was well aware of the cautious glances from his team and everyone else around him. His anger with Charlie deepened at the very public implication that he was some kind of out of control cowboy or that he would __**ever**__, under any circumstance, risk the safety of a civilian, even one who had foolishly put himself in harm's way and was now acting like a total jackass. _

"_Boss, I'm sure Charlie is just trying to establish empathy with the perp, gain his trust and…" David piped up._

"_Agent Sinclair, back off!" Don hissed bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. _

_Gary Wheeler took a long swig from the bottle Charlie had handed him and passed it back. He ran his fingers over his dry, cracked lips and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. His voice was a tremulous whisper, "Do you ever think about Doc Steve?" he asked._

_Charlie faltered, looking off into the distance. In a voice tinged with sorrow he spoke, "Not a day goes by that I don't think of him and the others. I try not to but…" he sighed. "Do remember those stupid math puns Steve used to torture us with?" He asked._

_"God, yeah," Gary laughed. "When zoids invade your garden, how do you get rid of them?"_

"_You trapezoid," Charlie answered. "What do mathematicians dream about?" He continued._

"_Imaginary numbers," Gary rejoined. "What did Bogart say to the mathematician?"_

"_Here's looking at Euclid!" Both men retorted in unison. _

"_I wanted to smack him," Charlie cringed and quietly took a gulp of Jack and handed the bottle back. "Remember how he walked?"_

_"He didn't walk; he strutted just like George Jefferson. Holiday used to sang 'Moving On Up' every time he passed by," Gary laughed. "You have to remember that song he was always singing." _

_Charlie shook his head, "I bunked with the man. That damned song is branded forever on my brain! If he wasn't singing it, he was humming it every waking moment of every day. I threatened to glue his mouth shut but that only made him get louder and more determined." _

_There was silence for a moment then the mathematician started to sing softly in a husky baritone, with Gary soon joining in._

_The screen door slams,_

_Mary's dress sways_

_Like a vision she dances across the porch_

_As the radio plays,_

_Roy Orbison singing for the lonely,_

_Hey that's me and I want you only…_

_They each took a drink then at full volume, the song rose to a crescendo:_

_Oh-Oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road _

_Lying out there like a killer in the sun,_

_Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run_

_Oh Thunder Road, sit tight take hold_

_Thunder Road…._

"_God, he made me hate Springsteen," Charlie said with a huff, the bottle dangling from one hand, the cigar from the other. _

_There was a long silence between the two men. Finally, Gary reached over and touched Charlie's hand, "Doc, what you had to do…you shouldn't feel bad. If you hadn't acted when you did, we all might have died right then and there. Don't let it eat away at you."_

_At first, Charlie didn't respond to his advice then he said in a halting voice, "Working with all of you, I always felt so, I don't know__—__ inadequate and out of place. Hell, Gary, you were a Ranger for almost fifteen years and I was just this __—__ mathematician __—__ plopped down in your midst, given some absurd, meaningless rank, ordering you around as if I knew what I was doing. I remember listening to all of you talk about places you've been, things you've seen and I couldn't imagine what it must be like to…"_

_"Now you know, Major Eppes," Gary interrupted. _

_"Yeah, now I know," Charlie's voice broke. He looked away for a second. "You had all seen a lot of action but…"_

"…_this time it was different," Gary whispered and both men fell silent. _

_With a small grin, the weary man gestured towards Charlie's right hand with his own half-smoked cigar. "You're not fooling anyone you know. We've been on to you for a long time. You only take a puff every once in a while, to keep it lit but you don't really smoke 'em, you just let 'em burn away to ash." _

_Charlie blushed and rested his forehead on his bent knees for an instant. He looked up, "There are more kinds of smoking related illnesses than just lung cancer, you know. You don't have to inhale for these things to make you sick." _

_Gary let out a sudden burst of ironic laughter, "Shit, Doc, look at how we live! Do you honestly believe that any of us are going to make it long enough for cigars or even Old Number Seven to do us in?" _

_"I could work up a couple of algorithms, toss in a few known factors, allow for variations and, with a reasonable degree of accuracy, come up with the probability of us reaching a ripe old age. I COULD do that but as Gus said the last time I spouted the odds of our survival, having the figures proving you're fucked doesn't change a damned thing __—__ you're still fucked," both men laughed._

_There was another lull and Charlie sensed it was time to try to end the situation. The longer it dragged out, the greater the chance of something going tragically wrong. When he spoke again it was in a soft, subdued voice, "Gary, why did you send for me? I know it wasn't to sing Springsteen songs or share a bottle of J.D. Tell me__…__why are we here."_

_A low, animal-like sound rose from deep within Gary as sobs racked his body, "Brenda left me, Doc! She took the kids and went to Atlanta! I came home on Monday and she…she left a note on the kitchen table and that was it. Ten years summed up in two words, 'I'm done. " Gary balled his fist and slammed it into the scorching roadway. "She took off with my brother, Doc; my own brother stole my family! What kind of a man…"_

_"I'm so sorry," Charlie said gently. "I know how much you love them."_

_"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Can you think of a single one of us that has a happy relationship of any kind?" Gary asked bitterly._

_"None of us seem to be particularly lucky in that area," Charlie smiled wryly, "except maybe that nice couple, Gus and Will. Now they seem happy," Charlie added._

_Gary chuckled in agreement then groaned and began repeatedly slamming the back of his head against the concrete pillar shouting to the heavens, "I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know where I am and God, help me, I don't know what's real anymore!" He turned desperate eyes on Charlie, "I'm not even sure you're real! Are you Doc, are you real?" _

_Slowly and with extreme caution Charlie moved from his position and sat beside his old friend. He slipped his arm around the trembling shoulders and pulled him close, "Yeah, I'm real. I'm here for you."_

_"Last night I thought…I thought that…that we were still back there! They were coming and we had to run but there was a white-out and I couldn't find anyone, and…I…had to fight so I…," Gary was shaking, gasping for air as saliva ran down his chin. "But none of it was real, was it? Oh, God, what have I done?" _

"_Gary, we've all been there. I've had a little trouble wrapping my mind around reality sometimes myself. The strangest things will bring it all back, usually at the most inconvenient times. Lately __—__ for me, it's the smoke. It reminds me of…_

_"…that morning." Gary finished the sentence for him._

"_Yeah, that morning," Charlie sighed. "I tried running equations in my head to get a grip and remember where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing but…"_

"_You and your damned numbers," Gary sighed softly. "Did it help?" _

_Charlie shook his head, "You know, I thought it would… at first anyway, I mean math always has been a solace to me like religion is for some. It's seen me through some tough times but this time, it just wasn't enough."_

_"You always seemed to be handling things so well. I used to wonder how you coped and…"_

_"What on earth makes you think I'm handling things? Believe me; I'm not nearly as together as I appear." He let out a quick breath. "My friend let me tell you how well I'm coping. Last week I was out in the garage putting some things on a shelf and I knocked over a small can of red paint. The lid came off and it splattered all over my shoes and my jeans. Intellectually, I knew it was just paint but that's not what I __**saw**__…and paint is definitely not what I __**smelled**__." _

_"I tried getting a handle on the panic by reciting the prime numbers. That has worked for me for years so I had no reason to doubt it would work now. I remember saying 937, 941, 947, 1019, and I realized I had made a mistake and skipped nine numbers and I couldn't for the life of me remember them and I couldn't remember what came after 1019 either. Something that was second nature to me was gone. I felt like I was drowning then everything went black. Gary, I totally freaking lost it like I __**never **__lose it. The next thing I knew I was holding a broken baseball bat and sitting in the middle of a pile of rubble that consisted of the remains of my blackboards, my computer, and boxes of stuff I've had since I was a kid. I even ripped up a dozen of my notebooks essentially shredding five years of my own work, all because of little red paint." _

_A sheepish grin touched his lips."When I came to my senses, do you know what my first thought was, besides the fact it was going to take hours to clean up that mess. Oh yeah, and that Don was going to kill me when he saw what I'd done to a few of his Little League trophies not to mention breaking his old bat? I thought it really wasn't at all fair. I'm always so damned logical, the epitome of rational behavior. If I was going to go nuts and wreck my garage, I should at least have the memory of having done it! I mean __— __Prof. Eppes went all Scarface and I missed the entire damned thing. I was really pissed!" _

"_Crazy Doc C." Gary said squeezing his friend's hand. _

_For a long time neither man spoke then Gary asked Charlie one final question. "Doc, you never lied to us. Even when the truth was bad, you didn't bullshit us and we respected you for that. I need you to be straight with me now. I know you know what really happened over there and why. I don't want a rehash of the evasions and fairytales they told us during debriefing, I want the truth. I've lost everything, Doc and I need to know why."_

_Charlie squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was raw as if the pain was a physical thing. "Contrary to the old adage, the truth does not always set you free. Sometimes, it's better to believe the lies."_

"_I need the truth Doc, and I need to hear the words from one of the few honest men I know. Please…I've earned it." Gary pleaded._

_For what seemed like forever, Don could hear nothing except the sound of the wind and his brother's breathing __— then __Charlie shut off his microphone. For a moment confusion ensued behind the barricade as various voices shouted, "Dr. Eppes are you alright__—__ please respond! Do you need assistance, sir?" _

_However, it was not Charlie who answered. Instead, Mike Donovan spoke up in a loud, commanding voice silencing all the others. "Dr. Eppes is alright, I repeat Dr. Eppes is alright! Please hold your positions!" _

_Don grasp his binoculars so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He watched as Charlie leaned his head so close to Gary's that it was partially obscured behind the unstable man's. Don could tell Charlie was speaking but he could not see his lips. After a while, he fell silent and both men sat very still leaning against each other as if for support._

_Suddenly the loud, almost belligerent voice of Col. Harrington startled nearly everyone as he broke the silence by bellowing, "Eppes, if you do not respond within ten seconds, we are coming in. Please acknowledge!" _

_It took all of his control for Don not to cold-cock the old man at that moment. Despite his misgivings, his younger brother did seem to have the situation under control and though it was taking longer than anyone wanted, it appeared the day was not going to end in bloodshed after all. Nevertheless, Don knew one mistake and all of that could change in a heartbeat and Charlie would be caught in the crossfire with very little chance of survival._

_Through his binoculars, Don saw Charlie roll his eyes in consternation and his microphone snapped back to life. "Give us a second, please," he shouted angrily._

_Silence fell for a couple of minutes longer, "So," Gary asked wearily, "besides Harrington, the cops and the Feds, who's on the other side of that barricade?"._

_Charlie smiled, "Just the usual suspects," he answered dryly._

"_Well, I can see Donovan from here so that leaves Jennet and Holiday." Gary said then continued in a subdued voice. "I've really fucked up, haven't I?" _

"_I won't lie to you; this is a major fuck-up, a really huuuuge, fuck-up." Charlie answered. "But we're here for you and we won't let you down. I promise you __—__ the Pack won't let you go through this alone."_

"_I'm so tired Doc, I'm so damned tired," he whispered hanging his head in sorrow. _

_"I know," Charlie said gently hugging his friend tighter. "Gary, the cigars are gone, the Jack is half empty and we're all exhausted; what do you say we call it a day?" _

_Gary raised his head and looked around, "How do we do this without them…you know." he asked looking at the snipers whose weapons were trained directly on him._

_There was movement from behind the barricades. Mike Donovan's voice again boomed through the earwigs. "All of you__—__ wait until Charlie tells you to move!" He barked._

"_Listen my friend; we've faced worse and made it through. We've survived Big Dave's cooking, Gus and Will's singing and my navigation. As a mathematician, I am fully aware that one day our luck will eventually run out but this is not that day. Here's what we're going to do," Charlie slowly rose to his feet. "First you're going to give me the weapon," he held out his hand. "It's okay, I promise not to shoot anything I'm not supposed to shoot," he smiled._

_"You know Donovan framed that huge hole you put in the classroom wall, don't you?" Gary laughed softly. "He calls it the C. Eppes Memorial Fuckup and uses it as a warning to others during his firearm safety classes." _

_"Yeah, that Donovan's a regular laugh riot. He should appear on Conan O' Brien." Charlie huffed as he carefully took the rifle from his friend's trembling hands. He quickly dropped the magazine, cleared the chamber and held the weapon over his head in one hand while he gently helped Gary to his feet with the other. _

_He led the now disarmed man to the center of the overpass where they were joined by the Marine. Together they walked towards the waiting officials. Charlie personally handed Gary Wheeler over to David and Colby assuring his old friend that they were the good guys and he would be treated fairly in their hands. He didn't have to be afraid and he again assured him that his friends would stand beside him and be there when they were needed, day or night._

"_Thank you for helping me, Doc," Gary said as Colby handcuffed his hands behind his back. "And thank you for telling me the truth. I know it was difficult for you." He was led away by Colby Granger._

_Charlie wordlessly handed the rifle to David Sinclair and turned to join his waiting friends. As a group, they walked past the barricades and into the crowd. For a second Don and his eyes met. Charlie took a step towards his brother but the agent looked quickly away and began giving orders for his team to pack up their equipment. Charlie paused and hesitated for second as if deciding what he was going to do then he turned and walked the other direction. _

_He stopped directly in front of the waiting Colonel aware all activity had again stopped and all eyes were riveted on them. He stared at the ground then slowly brought his gaze up and when he did, even Don was shocked at the flint-hard look in his usually gentle dark eyes._

_"You will help him," Charlie said in a deep, icy voice._

_"Eppes, I will try…" the older man started to say._

_"No __—__ you will use all of your considerable influence to help him," he moved a step closer. "This is your doing. All of it is your doing. You sent us out there and you…" Charlie's eyes narrowed. He looked around for a second then he again locked eyes with Harrington, "Perhaps it's time for an old viper to crawl under a nice warm rock and…hide from more formidable predators," he lifted his eyebrows. "What do you say, gentleman? Do you agree that it's time for a change?" He asked the three men standing in a tight group close behind him._

"_You can't just…" Harrington started to say._

"_Check with the Agency, Colonel," Donovan took a step closer to Charlie and rested his hand on the smaller man's shoulder in a show of camaraderie, "I think you'll find that we can." _

_"Smell that boys?" Gus Holiday loudly said slapping Charlie none to gently on the back causing him to grunt, "I do believe that is the fine odor of a new day arisin'."_

_Charlie cut his eyes back towards the old man he had come to despise. He slammed the half-empty whiskey bottle into his chest forcing him to take it then he turned to walk away, his friends at his side. He had gone only a few steps when he stopped and turned this time addressing the younger Harrington, "Lieutenant, we have an opening for a JSC, are you interested?" He asked. _

_"Dr. Eppes, sir, I would be honored," he said._

_"We just call the boy Doc," Will Jennet said as he carefully slid an arm around the younger man's shoulders, "Kid, you can start right now. The Pack is gonna need to find a waterin' hole for tonight. Nothing fancy like one of them velvet rope clubs or one of them places where everyone looks twelve and dresses like an anime character. If it's trendy, it ain't for us. All we need is cold beer, thick, juicy burgers and decent chicken wings."_

_The Lieutenant laughed, "I think I know just the place. How do you feel about karaoke?" _

_Gus joined the two men, "Rick, my boy, yur gonna fit right in." The three of them walked towards a waiting car, pausing long enough for Gus to grab the half-empty bottle from the Colonel's shaking hands. "I think the little Doc there might have been a bit hasty in giving up the J.D," he said. "I'm sure we can put this to good use easin' our way into the evening." He tucked the bottle under his arm._

_The two older men paced themselves to match the Lieutenant's slow, labored shuffle and when he hesitated, they halted and waited. He turned and looked at his father who was wordlessly watching him walk away._

_"So Dad, you're not even going to ask me stay," it was a statement, not a question. "That's not totally a surprise. You haven't had much use for me since I came back with this," he lifted the cane then gestured at his scared face with his free hand. "Perhaps you should crawl back under your rock and keep at least some part of your dignity intact. Either way it ends here and now. Your day is over, Colonel," he gave his father a final salute and headed towards the car. _

_The old man pulled himself up little straighter, "Eppes," he shouted at the retreating men. _

_All of them stopped. "What they say you did up there on that mountain…"_

_Charlie slowly turned around. "I did what any mathematician worth his salt would do, I swaged it," he said, turned on his heels and headed for the Range Rover. _

_"He did what?" Liz asked no one in particular. _

_"He swaged it. Eppes took a scientific wild-assed guess. Now THAT is one gutsy little guy." One of the men in the Colonel's dwindling staff guffawed shaking his head, "I think things are going to get real interesting real soon." He walked away quickly without another word to his former leader. _

_With Wheeler securely in custody, things began to break up quickly. Equipment was loaded into SUV's and vans as law-enforcement teams each headed their own way glad to be getting out of the heat and smoke. It was late and near shift change. Many would put in a couple of extra hours filling out reports but the worst was over. _

_With the area secure, the inevitable media frenzy began. Don was glad that dealing with the press was not his job. The Bureau and LAPD both had people specially trained to handle reporters. He was shrugging out of the hated vest and tossing it in the back of his black SUV when his and his brother's eyes met and their gaze held for a few long, uncomfortable seconds. Charlie gave him a small, enigmatic smile, and nodded. Without a single word, he climbed in the Range Rover beside Donovan and was gone. _

_That would be the last time he would see Charlie for six years. A short time later his younger brother suddenly and without explanation would leave the home he loved so much behind and move first to Washington then to New York City. Only then would he understand the poignancy of that moment. Only then did he realize that simple and quiet gesture was Charlie saying goodbye. _

oooooooooooo

Don Eppes silently gazed at his younger brother. Charlie's hands were raised, palms touching, fingers resting against his slightly parted lips. His eyes were closed and in the dim light, he almost looked like a child saying his prayers at night. His breathing was labored and he was visibly shivering.

Don would never be sure if it was his long dormant over- protective big brother instincts springing back to life or his fatherly instincts taking over, but suddenly he did not care whether Charlie wanted his touch or not. If the genius didn't have sense enough to come in out of the cold, HE would force him. Without another word, he took Charlie by the elbow and firmly steered him back into the warmth of the living room.

He led his brother to the couch and lowered him down. "Sit here in front of the fire and get warm. I'm going to fix you a cup of tea," he frowned. "You do still drink tea don't you?"

Charlie nodded, "Don you don't have to…" he said his teeth practically chattering.

"Yes, I do. If you catch a chill and get sick again Dad will have my ass and I suspect Donovan will have a far more tender part," he said as he dashed for the kitchen.

Don searched the cabinets until he found what he needed. He filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil then he started a pot of coffee for himself. He hurried from the kitchen to Charlie's office where he grabbed the blanket off the couch. He rushed back to his brother and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Don, I'm not one of your children!" Charlie insisted.

"No offense but even my youngest would know better than to go outside in a snow storm without a coat," he reached down and touched his brother's pale hands. "Charlie, you're freezing!" He pulled the blanket tighter around the smaller man's shoulders.

He looked up when he heard the shrill whistle of the kettle letting him know the water was ready. He hurried back to the kitchen and placing a teabag in a mug, he added boiling water and let it steep while he poured himself a cup of coffee. He hesitated for a moment unable to remember if his brother took one or two sugars in his tea. Knowing he could add more easily than he could remove, he stirred in one teaspoon and headed back to the living room.

"Buddy I…"Don froze as he handed Charlie the mug embarrassed at having fallen back on the old nickname. It had been a long time since he had referred to his younger brother as his 'buddy' and he wasn't sure why he used it at that moment. It certainly wasn't intentional. The name just slipped out before he realized it.

There was an awkward silence between the two men. Finally, Charlie took the warm mug from his brother's outstretched hands and carefully sipped the hot liquid.

"I ahhh….wasn't exactly sure how much sugar you used. If you need more…" Don stammered trying to recover from the uncomfortable moment.

"No, it's perfect, thanks," Charlie took another sip.

Don sat down on the couch beside his brother and for a long time neither of them spoke. Finally, placing the mug on the table, the younger man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he laced his fingers together. "Don," he said not looking at the man sitting so close to him. "I…I want to apologize for the things I said. I have no right to put anything off on you."

"Charlie, I…"

"No, let me finish." Charlie looked up. "I'm really not at all like this, Don. Usually I'm fine but these last months, I don't know, I've had a hard time dealing and I guess I dumped a bunch of crap on you. It was uncalled for and I want you to know I'm sorry."

Not at all sure of how his brother would react, Don tentatively rested his hand on the thin shoulder and this time Charlie didn't pull away.

"There are so many things I'd like to tell you but so much of my life is such a damned secret that I swear when I die even my obituary will be redacted. It will just say Dr. Charles Edwards Eppes, followed a bunch of black lines," he laughed softly.

"Charlie, I know you have no reason to ….what I'm trying to say is….I am so sorry for so many things I…" Don ran his hands through his damp hair, "Damn, I'm bad at this." He looked down slowly shaking his head.

Don felt strong fingers close around his. He looked up into dark haunted eyes that had seen far too much. Charlie reached over and gently wiped away the tears from his older brother's cheeks.

"I, ahh, I want …, but only if you want me…" Don took a deep breath and plunged ahead, "Charlie, I…I want to be your big brother again and…"

"Don, maybe we weren't exactly the best of pals but, in my heart, you have always been my brother, nothing can change that." Charlie squeezed his brother's hand.

For some reason Don didn't understand, those words hit him hard. "Charlie, there's something I've wanted to ask you," he said glancing once again at the portrait hanging a few feet away from them. "If it's none of my business just tell me and I'll back off," he added hurriedly.

Charlie smiled softly, "Just ask me, Don, I'll tell you if I can."

"Okay, here goes — the woman in that painting," he touched his brother's left hand, "and the ring you wear; Charlie, are you married?"

Charlie flinched. "I was," he said in a near whisper, "but I'm not now so I guess the answer is no, I'm not married."

"So, you're divorced?" Don asked.

Charlie closed his eyes for a second. "No, Don, I'm not divorced." He seemed to be gathering his strength. "I lost my wife and our baby three years ago on New Year's Eve."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Eight

Don sat in stunned silence staring into gleaming eyes that appeared black as anthracite and filled with unrelenting anguish. Charlie's words kept echoing through his mind like rolling thunder. He felt as if someone had shot him in the heart and he didn't know how to react. He pulled his hand from his brother's and stood feeling strangely lightheaded and sick to his stomach.

"I'm sorry I…" he muttered as he rushed to the bathroom with Charlie's startled _'Don, are you alright?'_ following close behind.

He slammed the door and locked it. Gripping the pale rose marble vanity top, he leaned against it for support, his breaths coming in deep gasps. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to regain his composure, fighting to keep from being physically sick. He raised his eyes and looked at his own image reflected in the mirror. The face that gazed back looked drained causing the fine lines around his eyes to appear deeper and more pronounced than ever.

Don swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat and turned his back not wanting to have to look at himself, afraid of the guilt he saw stamped all over his ashen face. He sank to the cold marble floor, hugged his knees to his chest. Charlie's words again reverberated through his head. _"I lost my wife and our baby three years ago on New Year's Eve." _"Oh God, little brother, what have I done to you?" He groaned.

Hot tears stung his cheeks as he thought of the past six years and how ecstatically joyous his own life had been. His wife and children were everything to him and through it all, through every birth, through every accomplishment, he had always had the support of his father and his friends. Even during those terrifying three months when Robin's last pregnancy had gone so wrong, his father, his team, even the Bureau had been there for them every step of the way.

The Director himself had dipped into a little known hardship fund to help with the monumental expenses not covered by insurance, expenses that threatened to wipe out their savings and sink them financially. It even covered the cost of nannies for his three small children and home healthcare workers for his wife allowing him to continue to work while she was confined to bed.

The unexpected help was a Godsend and when Robin gave birth to a healthy baby boy they named David, he had literally wept. He was truly a blessed man. And it hurt to his very bones to know that — over those same years — while he basked in the love and support of his family and friends, Charlie had been abandoned by those very same people — tossed out like so much garbage.

Don felt a shaft of razor sharp steel pierce his soul as he remembered the day that his long missing brother had, like the Prodigal Son, returned to them. There had been no warning that he was coming home and he offered no explanation of where he had been or what he had been doing during that long year. And not once had the words 'I'm sorry' passed his lips. 'I'm sorry for the grief I caused, for ripping the family apart, for nearly killing my father with sorrow.' No, not once had Charlie seen the need to even attempt to make amends — at least that was how it appeared to everyone whose life he had so callously disrupted. He simply reappeared late one day, standing in the garage as if he was returning from a trip to the grocery and nothing more. And Don recalled how, with a cold, hard heart, he had turned his back on his little brother and left him standing alone in the fading light of a March day.

Even worse, the Charlie that returned was not the Charlie who had left. He had changed. He had become quiet, distant and isolated. Sometimes, if you caught him unawares, he appeared almost … haunted was the word Robin used to describe him. Being around him was not easy for any of them. It was awkward. Having Charlie back in their lives again was awkward — and inconvenient. No one knew what to say to him or where to put their eyes if he walked in the room. No one said the words, but everyone, their father included, was relieved when he decided to move away. Not one of them offered even the pretense of an argument. It was so easy to turn their backs … so damned easy to let him go.

And through all the subsequent years that would follow — the brother he had shunned, the brother he had condemned as selfish, self-centered…arrogant, had walked the streets of hell in silence, never once disturbing their precious happiness with his pain. In the end, which of them truly deserved condemnation? Which of them was truly the _arrogant_ brother?

Don pictured his beloved wife and children. He tried to imagine what his life would be like if, God forbid; he lost them. Could he face every sunrise without them for the rest of his days…would he have the strength to go on alone? He was not sure he that he would. They were his reason for getting up in the morning, his reason for living. Life without them would be meaningless.

Don slowly rose from the floor and looked at himself one last time in the mirror. He splashed cold water on his face and took a deep breath. Ready or not, it was time he left his sanctuary. He did not know what, if anything, he could do to help his brother; he only knew he needed to try. Sending up a silent prayer that he would — by some divine intervention — find the words to give his brother comfort, if in fact, those words even existed, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

"Charlie, I…" he said walking into the living room. The half-finished cup of tea was still sitting on the table, but there was no sign of his bother.

A cold, dark thought entered his head as he dashed out onto the dark terrace. With no small amount of fear, he rushed to the railing and looked down. There was nothing on the sidewalk twenty-nine floors below except snow and scurrying crowds. He let out a relieved sigh and stepped back into the warmth and light. It was then he heard the faint sound of music coming from the adjacent hall. He headed towards the sound pausing at the slightly ajar door of one of the two rooms Charlie had left off his tour.

"Charlie…" Don called then gently pushed the door opened, entered and gasped.

Don pressed his hand to his lips as he stood in the dim light of a room in the process of being lovingly prepared for a new baby. Near the lace curtained window sat a rocking chair and a cradle, both handmade by an artisan and covered with intricate carvings. A crib and bassinet stood against one wall and a changing table and chest-of-drawers near another. Stuffed animals rested on shelves, their little glass eyes keeping silent watch, waiting for a child that would never come. A tiny set of fatigues lay on the crib, a gift from Donovan no doubt. Someone had carefully folded them so the name 'EPPES' emblazoned on the front showed and a little utility hat rested next to them.

The walls were gridded off and a mural of a meadow covered in wild flowers dominated half the room. Among the violets and lavender frolicked a bevy of animals both small and large. A sweet little family of bunnies grazed on clover and daisies, a coy fox admired herself in a crystal - clear lake. A pack of majestic wolves protectively stood guard over all. It was work in progress — a work that would never be finished.

Don stood back gazing in awe at the fanciful scene before him. His eyes rose upwards past the snowcapped mountains of the background towards the ceiling and he saw a sky fading to evening with the full moon beginning to rise, it's hazy light reflecting off the silvery coats of ghostly lupine figures racing across the azure expanse.

"Oh buddy, I should have been here for you. I am so sorry," Don whispered and slowly backed out of the room pulling the door closed as he left.

For a second Don considered calling out to his brother but he felt that breaking the silence of the moment would be wrong. Instead, he elected to follow the faint whisper of music emanating from behind the French doors at the end of the dark hallway. Don's sense of apprehension grew with each step and when his hand reached for the doorknob, his resolve faltered and he hesitated wondering if he was doing the right thing. After all, when Charlie needed him the most he wasn't there — none of them were. Don squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was well aware that Charlie might spit in his arrogant face at his offer of condolences — three years too late. Don took a quick breath and opened his eyes. Well, if he did, then so be it! He slowly pushed the door opened and stepped inside.

The bedroom was beautiful, elegant and very much a woman's province. A silver hairbrush sat on the vanity among bottles of costly perfume, a platinum diamond and emerald necklace and a matching bracelet. Next to the valuable jewelry sat a silly, cheap party hat that said _Happy New Year_ in gold glitter and a noisemaker with blue feathers on the tip. A black lace and silk designer cocktail dress lay casually tossed across the back of an overstuffed chair as if its owner would soon return and slip it on for a night out on the town. Don's racing heart skipped a beat as he realized that in that room, as in the baby's, time had screeched to a halt and it was still New Year's Eve — three years before.

Don's eyes rested on the small figure sitting cross-legged in front of the gas fireplace silently going through a white box of photos and mementoes. "Charlie I, …" he started to say.

"It's Ruby James," Charlie said softly not looking up.

"What?" Don asked slowly crossing the room and sat directly in front of his brother mirroring his position.

"The song, it's Ruby James' _'Desert Rose'. _We were dancing to that song the night I asked her to marry me. We were drinking this terrible, cheap wine — well — I was anyway. Dee was drinking sparking water because we had just found out she was pregnant." Charlie sighed.

"I actually got down on one knee in the middle of the dance floor just as the song was ending and asked her. The entire bar, including Mike, Gus and Will was watching. We had always said we didn't need a piece of paper from the state of New York to tell us we're a couple but," a small smile touched his lips, "the baby kind of changed that and having that piece of paper suddenly mattered a lot. I remember I was damned nervous. I mean I knew she loved me but I'm not always the best judge of what a woman will do; you know how that goes."

Don chuckled and nodded, he did indeed. "Yeah, I know what you mean," Don said remembering the night he asked Robin to marry him.

"Much to my relief, she said yes." He seemed to be gathering his thoughts for a second."Charlie smiled and continued a little shyly, "We kind of fumbled into love. Everybody saw it except us. We could spend hours talking about Doctor Who or horror films. We'd look up to find the whole gang staring at us with this stupid grin on their faces. We'd promptly tell them that we were just friends and _THEY_ needed to get a life. More than once Gus retorted that, _WE_ needed to just do it and get it over with. I would have decked him if he didn't outweigh me by seventy pounds — and if I was the sort of guy that decked people," Charlie chuckled.

Don laughed softly at the idea. His brother was the gentlest person he had ever met.

"I guess we were both afraid of …" Charlie looked down for a second then continued. "Neither of us had been very lucky as far as relationships went and we both considered ourselves pretty much — damaged goods." he shrugged.

"Charlie," Don said. He reached out and gently took his brother's hand in his.

"I haven't been in either of these rooms in such a long time," Charlie took a deep breath. "And I don't know why I suddenly feel compelled to relive all of this now. I'm usually good at keeping the ghosts at bay and getting through the night but lately…I guess I'm not doing so well," he said in a near whisper.

"If you want to talk, I'm available. Being a good listener is part of my job after all," Don gently squeezed his brother's hand and smiled.

Charlie looked at Don for a long moment. He seemed to be very far away for a while then looking a little wistful, he softly said, "I met Dee when I was nineteen years old. She was Ashley's best friend; they were practically sisters. They grew up together, studied at NYU together, they did everything together; you know how girls are sometimes."

"Oh yeah, I know all about that," Don said thinking of his wife and his daughters.

"We were friends back then but not really close. Over the years we stayed in touch like people do but that was about it." Charlie closed his eyes for a second, "When Ashley…died, she called and we started talking. Then when I came back from…and my life seemed to be falling apart, she asked me to come to New York. She had a huge place she had inherited from her parents. She had no family and I had no one …" he shrugged, "I wasn't sure I wanted to move to New York, but she pointed out that with the book coming out, what better place to be than the City. I certainly had nowhere else to go and as much as I love Mike's place, I felt like I had hidden out in the mountains long enough so I said yes."

"Don, I think you would have liked Dee. She was what Mike called a real man's woman. She was intelligent, classy and graceful." He smiled at his older brother, "but she could be really bawdy. More than once she'd just blurt something out and even Gus would blush — and she rode a motorcycle and not some little scooter either. She had a soft tail Harley. She bought one for me and insisted I learn to ride."

Now it was Don's turn to smile at the thought of his little brother on anything with two wheels other than a bicycle. "Did you learn to ride?" He asked gently.

"Oh yeah, I learned but not before I dropped it a few times. You know how I am with mechanical things. More than once, I forgot to put my feet down when I stopped. Mike's reaction to that one was to shout; _'Now that's a typical Squirrel Moment_.' They have a few things they call Squirrel Moments and none of them puts me in a very good light. Most of them involve me falling off something, getting chased by something or splattered by something. A couple have wound up on YouTube. I'm going to get Jennet for that." Charlie shook his head.

"She could out shoot and out drink Mike! She'd go one on one with him with shots of Jack and drink him under the table and she wasn't averse to smoking an occasional Cuban with us."Charlie closed his eyes for a moment then he opened them.

Don wanted to say something but he knew Charlie needed to talk so he sat quietly and listened as his younger brother told him about the woman he had loved and lost.

"I kind of danced around what everyone else thought was obvious for a few months telling myself that I didn't want or have the time for a serious relationship with anyone and even if I was interested in her, it was a moot point because Dee seemed to have a thing for Mike. They were always on the phone together or meeting for dinner if Mike was in town. She even flew out to Washington and spent a few weekends at his place."

"I tried to tell myself it didn't bother me. Logic is paramount in my thought process and for her to fall for him was really — logical. I mean she was so statuesque and beautiful and I'm — well, I wasn't in their league. Hell, I wasn't even in the same stadium. How could someone like me possibly compete with a 6'4" highly decorated, heroic, ex-marine with a build like Randy Orton? I looked like a freaking hobbit next to him! Of course, she wanted Mike, what woman wouldn't? At least, that's what I thought — and then we all went to Africa."

"Africa, Charlie! That must have been fascinating!" Don said.

"It was, Don, for several reasons. The idea came while we were having a few beers one night and Will and Gus began talking about Rick Harrington. After that day on the overpass, they had taken him under their wing. Helping him to regain as much of a normal life as possible became their obsession and, with physical therapy and counseling, he was making vast strides both physically and emotionally."

"Maybe we were a little drunk or even a lot drunk, but Mike made the suggestion that perhaps a good way to get the courage to face one challenge is to face another even tougher one and, with teamwork and the support of your friends, conquer it. That's when Gus brought up Africa. He had been there a couple of times and we thought a safari might be just the thing, not one of those luxury deals but a really tough trek across the continent." Charlie stopped for a moment, "To my surprise, Mike asked Dee to come with us and she accepted."

"It took a while to pull it all together but after rushing around like crazed chickens for months, we found ourselves on a chartered jet headed for Africa. Dee and Mike spent the entire plane trip sitting together in the back row talking, completely ignoring the rest of us so — ever the logical mathematician — I assumed she was with him."

Charlie smiled, reached into the box, pulled out a photograph and handed it to Don, "This is the entire group in front of the two Land Rovers all decked out in our safari gear. Gus looks like a bear wearing a hat and look at me, Professor Eppes — African Explorer." He handed him another, "And this is me sitting on the roof of the car after I got chased and treed by a bush pig — yet another Squirrel Moment."

Don grinned at the look on his brother's face as he sat on top of the car with a rather nasty looking porcine creature trying its best to scramble up after him.

"I guess it was our third night in Rhodesia that things changed. We were all sitting around the campfire talking. It was getting late and people were starting to turn in. Dee and Mike were sitting a little apart from the rest of us. He was whispering in her ear and she was laughing. Don, suddenly I was furious with Mike and I felt lower than dirt because of it. If anyone in this world deserves happiness, it's that man. I owe him more than I can ever repay. I knew that I should be happy for them but I wasn't. I felt angry, resentful and — well, jealous as hell of Mike. I decided to go to my tent so I didn't have to watch them. One good thing about being a mathematician and a writer, as long as I have my laptop or a notebook and something to write with, I can work."

A small smile touched Charlies lips. "I'm really good with math, Don. Give me equations and algorithms and I'm very much in my element, but…" he sighed, "I'm not so good with people. Mathematics is an elegant art. And numbers Don, numbers don't lie. You might misinterpret them or you might make a mistake in your calculations, but the error is yours, the math is still valid. People on the other hand…" he let out a heavy sigh. "Anyway, I went to my tent. I was sitting outside in the lamplight going over some of the equations I had started the day before. I had made some progress on my Cognitive Emergence but I was not completely satisfied with a couple of my conclusions so I was rechecking my formulas. I was totally engrossed in my figures when I heard Dee say, '_Can I join you?_' I looked up and she was smiling at me."

xxxx

"_You seem very engrossed," Dee said brushing a stray strand of jet-black hair from her face._

"_I wasn't sure if I had made an error here or not so I'm going over…" Charlie stammered then bit his lip wondering if Dee really cared about his work or if she was just being polite. "Are you ahhh, enjoying the trip?" He asked and immediately thought 'Lame! You are so lame, Dr. Eppes.'_

_A slow smile crossed her lips, "Yes, I am. This is a beautiful place, but it's kind of scary that our guides are armed with automatic weapons."_

_Charlie shrugged, "They are only for our protection. Poachers are a serious threat and not just to the animals," he explained as he continued to write in his notebook. "They are well armed and will fight if they feel threatened. Occasionally local warlords have been known to attack safaris but that's kind of rare around here. A far more likely danger is some of the wild life. They don't call the Cape buffalo Black Death for nothing. They can rip you open with those horns and then they stomp you into the ground and there's the Black Mamba…"_

"_Good lord, Eppes!" Mike Donovan suddenly stepped out of the shadows grabbed his notebook out of his hands and whacked him over the head with it before tossing it to the ground. "No wonder you've never been married! This is a fine woman here and you're rambling on about getting gored by a damned buffalo! What's the matter with you? This woman rides a Harley and enjoys Bruce Willis movies for Christ sake and she knows that Tom Baker was whatever it was the two of you said…"_

"_The fourth Doctor," Charlie interrupted. _

"_What?" Mike shouted standing with his hands on his hips._

"_Tom Baker played the fourth Doctor Who and Peter Davison was the fifth." Charlie said. _

"_Sylvester McCoy was my favorite. He played the seventh Doctor." Dee added._

"_I think one of the best was Tennat. He played the tenth but everyone knows that and…" Charlie glanced up to see the marine glaring at him and he froze in mid-sentence. _

"_Everyone…" Mike looked thoroughly exasperated, "Charlie, no one outside of your little geek club knows that or cares! The fact that this lady does should tell you something." He threw up his arms as he walked away, "God, talk about oblivious geniuses! Eppes, you take the cake…Jeez!"_

_Charlie and Dee watched him walk away then they looked at each other. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I…" Charlie said shyly. _

_She smiled. "It's okay. I know you were only explaining why the weapons are necessary." She looked up at the night sky. "It's a beautiful night. There must be a million stars out." She cocked her head to one side, "Figuratively speaking of course," she added just as Charlie started to open his mouth to correct her._

_He bit his lip, blushed and looked down. "Dee, I … I'm not sure how to say this…"_

"_Then don't," she said softly and took his hand in her own. She reached over and very gently touched his face. "You know, Gus gave me a flask of whiskey. I'm supposed to get you drunk then use my feminine wiles to seduce you," she gently touched his lips._

_Charlie chuckled softly. "My friends aren't the most PC bunch. I hope they didn't offend you." _

"_Not at all," she whispered and kissed him gently on the lips. "I guess that wasn't PC either."_

"_Dee, are you really trying to seduce me?" Charlie asked with a quick intake of his breath when she kissed his neck._

"_Yeah, I am. Is it working?" She whispered resting her head on his shoulder. _

"_Yeah, it really is but __— __what about Mike?" Charlie asked._

_She smiled and coyly glanced in the dark tent. "I don't think the three of us will fit in your sleeping bag," she said._

_Suddenly Charlie caught her implication and blushed scarlet. "No! I mean, I thought you and he…you've been spending so much time together and…I would never…"_

"_Oh Charlie," she sat back for a second and stroked his hair then rested her hand on his cheek. "We've been discussing a few projects he has in mind and how to fund them. He told me you're buying a parcel of land near his and the plans the two of you have for it." She took his hands in hers. "Besides, he's sleeping with Alexia."_

"_He's what!" Charlie shouted shocked at the news._

_Dee laughed and nodded. "We mostly talk about you. He told me all that you've been through in the last years and what a good, kind, gentle person you still are despite it all. I tried to remind him that I've known you years longer than he has but to no avail," she smiled. "You're friends love you very much. I guess they wanted to make sure that my intentions towards you are … honorable."_

"_Oh God, they didn't," Charlie shook his head embarrassed to the bone._

"_Don't be embarrassed. I think it's sweet that they care so much. They just want to protect their little pup as Gus calls you. They don't want you to be hurt again." She leaned over, kissed him, and brushed an errant curl his out of his eyes. "Such sad Panda eyes." she whispered. "You've had so much pain in your life. I want to make you happy, Charlie and I think you can make me happy so __—__ what do you say to turning off the Coleman and retiring to the privacy of your tent?"_

_He hesitated for a moment then, turning off the lantern, he followed her. The last thing he heard as he zipped up the flap was Gus's voice booming through the campsite shouting, "It's about fuckin' time!" _

_The next morning, exhausted from a night of passion, they overslept and when they emerged from their lair, the mortified lovers realized they had been over-heard by all because they were greeted by the entire crew lined up with the 'three amigos' sitting in front like judges at an Olympic event. They each held up hastily written signs rating their performance at 10.00 or 9.80 and 9.65. Everyone cheered and the catcalls echoed across the veldt. _

_Charlie and Dee both turned the color of the red clay soil of the Preserve and Charlie wanted to kill the lot of them. It didn't help at all when Gus slapped him on the back and shouted "Boy, fur someone who don't believe in Him, you sure as hell do call out the good Lord's name a lot."_

_Charlie had covered his face with his hands and groaned, "Oh God!" under his breath._

"_See __—__ there you go again!" Will guffawed and ruffled his hair as he walked to the campfire for a cup of coffee._

_Mike had a huge grin on his face. He shook his head then kissed Dee on the cheek and gently punched Charlie on the arm. "I knew you had it in you, little partner. It's always the quiet, shy ones," he laughed and joined the others._

_The young couple stood staring at each other for a few seconds then Dee threw her arms around Charlie's neck and they both laughed until tears ran down their cheeks._

xxxx

"We learned to be much less … vocal after that," Charlie said with a grin. Sitting on the floor of the bedroom he had shared with his wife, Charlie blushed again as he related the story of that night.

Don laughed and squeezed his younger brother's hand.

"We came home and started a life together. We would sit up all night just talking, making plans. You know how it is in the beginning." Charlie sighed. "We both knew our lives were not going to be like _Leave it to Beaver_ or _The Brady Bunch_. She understood about my work. She knew there were going to be times I would have to be away and I couldn't always tell her where or for how long. Moreover, she understood that so much of what I do, the mathematics, even the writing is a solitary endeavor and that I lock myself away for days at time. She accepted all of that about me." Charlie smiled then became serious.

"She was the one who brought up having children. She told me that when she was younger she had suffered a couple of very bad miscarriages and that the doctor's had told her that she would probably never be able to have kids of her own. She wanted me to know in case having a family was important to me. I assured her that having her in my life was enough and I didn't have any great desire to have kids. Of course fate has a way sticking it to you when you least expect it."

For a long time Charlie sat in silence then he continued in a soft, quiet voice. "Don, there are moments in your life that embed themselves in your memory. Years later, you can pull them up, perfect images like photographs that never fade, no matter how much time passes. I remember your face when you came to tell me Mom was gone, that look of pain — and anger," he squeezed his eyes shut.

"I can still see Ashley lying in the street covered by a stranger's coat; her blood-soaked hair spread on the asphalt, her out-stretched hand seemed to be reaching for me. I remember what it felt like climbing over that wall that night in the desert and looking back to see Hicks in the glow of the fire as he rose up on one elbow, embers floating around him like fireflies. I can picture Steve, the fear in his eyes just before…" he shook his head.

"I close my eyes and I see Dee standing in the rain in front of our building, her mascara running down her cheeks telling me that we were going to be parents — and the night I lost her, the doctor telling me…" A shudder ran through his body.

"We ran back up to the apartment and we held each other. I think we both wept like scared kids. You know, that's the last time I wept over anything. Later, I was just too…broken." He took a deep breath. "We didn't know what to feel that day. We didn't know whether to be happy or sad or scared. I guess we were a little of each. I told her, considering her history that I would support her in anything she decided to do. She looked at me long and hard and asked me point blank 'Charlie, do YOU want this baby?'I took a moment, maybe a moment too long because she started to tremble and I when I answered her, I told her the honest truth; I wanted our baby more than anything. She smiled at me and the decision was made. We would do whatever it took; make any sacrifice to have a healthy baby. Luckily, we live in a city with some of the best doctors in the world so her care was going to be first-rate. We decided not to tell anyone for a while. She didn't want to jinx things. I guess it's sort of a pregnant woman superstation. The one person besides us who knew was Mike, and he guessed because I was practically jumping up and down. You know how I can be when I have a secret."

Don nodded and gently stroking the hand he had been holding for a couple of hours now.

"The next person to find out was Gus and once he knew, we might as well have put it in the Sunday Times because soon, everyone knew. We all went out to celebrate and that's when I asked her to marry me. We thought about going to the courthouse but we wanted our friends with us and Dee was religious in her own way. She really wanted to get married in the Church. I told her we could have any kind of wedding she wanted; I only wanted her to be happy. She had a friend who was a priest so we were married in the chapel of St. Michael's with all our friends there. It was a very small wedding but very beautiful. We came back here for the reception. We were all so happy. I never imagined that soon we would gather here again for her…"

"The weeks passed and she was doing well. The doctors were cautious but optimistic. Our friends wanted to give us something very special so they took it upon themselves to fix up one of the rooms for the baby. Will designed and painted the mural. He's one hell of an artist. Mike made the rocking chair and the cradle with his own hands. The carving in them is all so delicate and beautiful. If you look closely, you'll see guardian angels among the flowers and the scrolls. He says we all can use a little looking after every now and again. Alexia and the ladies bought all the toys, the bassinet and the changing table and Gina made the curtains herself. They all worked so hard on that room. It was such a labor of love, but it was never finished and I guess it never will be."

He took a deep agonized breath and let it out quickly, "It was New Year's Eve. Mike was in Virginia visiting an old marine buddy. Gus and Will were in Florida for Gus and Maw-Maw Holiday's annual New Year's blowout. Alexia and Destiny were in Paris and Gina was having a party. We were invited but for obvious reasons, we decided to make a quick polite appearance then duck out and go to bed early. The only thing Dee really wanted to do was to have our usual dinner at Emilio's. We had trouble getting a cab and she wanted to walk. I should have said no. I should have gone and picked up the food and brought it back but I didn't — we walked."

"We had a really nice dinner. Emilio gave us noisemakers and stupid hats, the kind you would never wear on any other day. We took our time and enjoyed the food and the walk home." Charlie licked his lips and his voice shook a little as he spoke.

"Don — we had planned to call you and Dad that night and tell you about our marriage and the baby. I hadn't heard from either of you in nearly three years but Dee thought — and I hoped that maybe if you knew about my family you might find it in your hearts to forgive me a little." Charlie paused and looked into his older brother's eyes.

"But if you couldn't forgive me then I hoped you could at least accept Dee and — Michael Donald. That's what we were going to name the baby, after Mike — and you. Every child should know his family and I wanted him to meet his grandfather, his uncle and his cousins even if I wasn't included. I pictured my son playing with your kids by the koi pond and running up and down the stairs at the house. It's such a great house for kids." Charlie looked away for a second then he looked at his brother again, "Of course none of that matters now," he whispered.

"Dee was really happy that night. She said she felt better than she had in weeks and she was laughing and making jokes. She was going to take a shower and change into a silk dress she bought the week before. I was sitting on the bed looking over some of my figures when I heard her call me. She was bleeding and…" Charlie unconsciously tightened his grip on his brother's hands. "I called the doorman and told him we needed help. It took the emergency vehicles forever to get here. The street was a gridlock and…"

"The emergency room was a disaster as always. She was holding my hand and she looked so scared and so sad. I think she knew because the last thing she said to me was 'I love you Charlie, lean on Mike, he'll help you,' and they took her away. I went outside for a minute to try to call Mike but I couldn't reach him. Gina called. She said she couldn't reach him either. Gus told her Mike and his friend had gone camping in the mountains and there was no cell coverage but she was going to call a ranger to hike in and find him. I went back in and sat down."

"It was all such a blur after that. People came and went. I looked up at the clock. Some drunk kept saying 'It's the last hour of the last day of the year'. That phrase stuck in my mind and I can't seem to forget it. Time seemed to drag. No one had come out to tell me anything but I was sure we had lost the baby. She was almost seven months along so I knew it was going to be very hard on her. I was making plans to let the guys know I wouldn't be available to travel for a while. I needed to be home with my wife and then … I looked up. I saw it was almost midnight and I saw the doctor coming towards me."

"He looked so tired Don, so shaken. He took me to this little room off to the side and told me to sit and he sat right across from me. I knew he was going to tell me about the baby but I never expected…he told me her … they couldn't stop the bleeding …they tried to save the baby but …" Charlie was trembling. Don held both his hands tightly in his own. He wanted to hold his brother but he was afraid if he did, Charlie would pull away from him.

"I just sat there, I didn't know what to say or do. 'I'm sorry for your loss,' those were the words he used. It sounded so phony, so — trite. Then he had to go. Dee wasn't the only emergency that night, she wasn't even the only death — New Year's Eve really brings out the stupid in people."

"I just sat there feeling numb and lost. I couldn't comprehend what had just happened. I kept thinking it was all a bad dream and that soon I would wake up. Then I heard shouts and _Auld_ _Lang Syne_ coming somewhere. I looked at the clock and saw it was midnight. Someone asked me if they could call me a cab. I don't remember saying yes but I must have because the next thing I knew the driver was telling me he had to let me out a couple of blocks from my building because of the traffic so I got out, paid him and walked the rest of the way." His words trailed away and he bowed his head.

xxx

_Crowds pushed past him on the street, mostly young, mostly drunk. A girl he didn't know grabbed him and kissed him causing him to stumble and nearly fall. "Happy New Year!" She shouted and he only looked at her like she was an alien with three eyes. She ran off to join her friends. As he approached his building, he was glad to see that the doorman was occupied chasing away a gang of rowdy kids allowing him to slip inside unnoticed and head for the elevator. _

_He made his way to his apartment and let himself in. He sat on the couch in the dark. The night moved around him but he didn't move. He sat perfectly still staring into space trying not to think. Hours past and the dark slowly turned to light. It struck him that it was the first day of a brand new year __—__ and he was alone perhaps for the rest of his life. He heard the front door open and close and familiar footsteps crossed the room. _

_"Charlie," the voice was raw with pain but he said his name very softly. _

"_They're gone, Mike," he said. "Dee and the little one, they're gone and I don't know what to do." And strong, arms folded around him drawing him into a loving, protective embrace._

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Nine

"Don, I didn't know what to do," Charlie whispered his voice filled with pain. "I couldn't think. Mike held on to me for what must have been hours. I'm really not sure. I can still remember that his jacket smelled like winter, how very strong he felt and the sound of his breathing. He didn't say one word. He knew there was nothing he could say. He knew what I needed; Mike always knows what I need. He gave me time. Finally —when I pulled away — he stood."

xxx

"_I'm going to make some coffee. Are you going to be alright?" Mike asked gently._

_Charlie nodded and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his clasped hands against his lips. _

_He jumped when the phone rang. Instinctively, he reached to answer it but the marine stepped in, "There's going to a lot of that. You let me take care of the phones for now until you're a little steadier on your feet." He picked up the receiver and said, "Hello…yes, it's true…I'm not sure yet. Let me call you back later when I know more… He's how you would expect…Thank you, I'll tell him. " he walked towards the kitchen as he spoke._

_Soon he came back holding two cups of steaming hot black coffee and sitting one cup in front of Charlie he placed his own on the table and sat down. "That was Maggie Kuhn from 201. She wants me to tell you that she's very sorry and…"_

"…_If she can do anything just call." Charlie interjected bitterly._

_Mike blinked a couple of times. "I've turned off the ringer for now, just let everything go to voice mail," he said. "Gina called me on my cell. She says Alexia and Destiny are taking the first flight they can get home. She wanted to come over but I asked her to wait a little while. She understands and she wants me to tell you she loves you and … if you need her she's there. She does truly mean that, Charlie." _

_Charlie only nodded. He knew Gina was among the few who sincerely did care. When she said she was sorry and to call if he needed her, it wasn't just something people say._

"_Gus and Will are headed back from Florida. They caught a plane this morning. Maw-Maw wanted to come but she twisted her ankle helping a customer dock his boat at the camp." Mike shook his head._

_Charlie frowned. "Mike, Maw-Maw Holiday is nearly ninety-five years old. She shouldn't be working at all much less on a boat dock."_

"_Yeah, well you try telling her that," Mike chuckled. _

_Charlie smiled remembering the first time he had joined Gus and the others on a trip to the bear of a man's home in central Florida. There he had been introduced to Bessie May Holiday, Gus's 'grandmother' known to one and all for fifty miles around as Maw-Maw Holiday or just Maw-Maw. She was a tiny woman with long silver gray hair she wore in a braid nearly to her waist. In her mid-nineties, she still ran the outfitters and fish camp her husband had started when they first married when she was just sixteen and he was eighteen. She lost her Bud in a boating accident long ago and she never married again. No other man could ever measure up, not in almost fifty years._

_She was tough as nails and as spry as a woman thirty years her junior. The Good Lord had not seen fit to bless her with children of her own but she had raised many that were not. She always told Gus that he had come to her as a gift from God. She raised the unwanted oversized child as her own from the day his own mother, as Gus so crassly put it 'disappeared over the back fence like the alley cat she was.' with some truck driver from Abilene leaving her ten year old son crying in the front yard as they drove away in his Kenworth. Later they heard that her eighteen-wheelin' Prince Charming had dumped her somewhere near Vegas for a younger, prettier Cinderella. _

_In the way of children, Big Gus was sure she would come back for him one day. For the next year and a half, he sat on the porch every afternoon, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, his heart racing at every passing semi, and wait __—__ but she never came. Then one day, he simply grabbed a fishing pole, took his sandwich out to the dock, and dropped a line in the water with the other kids. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to have a real home. He never lacked for clean clothes, good food and love. Maw-Maw never had a lot of money, but she sure as hell had a lot of love. When he was older, he took her last name as his own. He was in the Army when he learned his mother had died of an overdose in New Orleans a few years earlier. He was surprised that he wept at the news but not Maw-Maw. She was a wise woman. Gus was her boy and would be until they laid her in her grave, but a boy's mother is still his mother even if she is no kind of mother at all._

_Maw-Maw had taken to Charlie from the first moment she saw his dark curly hair and big brown eyes. She decided he needed some proper old-fashioned 'grandmotherin' and took him in as her own just as she had Gus when he was a child and years later, the rest of the pack. She called the mathematician her baby boy and warned the others to keep an eye on the little 'un or they'd get the business end of her Mossberg. No one, not even Mike Donovan, messed with Maw-Maw Holiday and her 12 gauge._

"_Charlie," Mike said gently rubbing his friend's shoulder, "everyone's on their way. You won't have to go through this alone. We're all going to do what we can but… there are a lot of decisions to make and you are the only one who can make them."_

_Charlie instantly knew what Mike meant. He recalled the myriad of details his father had to attend to in the hours and days after their mother's death. There were 'arrangements' to be made and they could not wait, not even for a day. This time HE was the one all the responsibilities were going to fall to and he had to get it together. There was no time for grief __—__ no time for sorrow. All of that would have to wait. What was the phrase Don snapped at him that last night just before he left for that year in hell? 'Man-up, Charlie, for once in your life, man-up.' And he had __—__ oh God, he had __—__ and he would again._

"_I need to call Father Dave. I know Dee would want him to…" Charlie said softly._

"_Do you have a contact list so I can make some calls? I know there are people you want to notify," Mike asked._

"_Yeah, on my cell and her cell and there's an address book in the nightstand by our bed, the one on Dee's side." _

"_Okay, give me the phones and I'll get the book and start making calls. I'll start with Father Dave," he said gently. "Charlie, you need to decide where…" _

"_I think … I'm sure she'd like to be buried close to her parents and…" his voice wavered, "the number of the funeral home that took care of them in the book in the bedroom." He reached out and touched his friend's hand. "It's going to be alright, Mike," he said and Mike was never sure if that was a statement or a question._

_Mike nodded and then he looked hesitant almost sheepish as if he doubted the next words he uttered should be said at all, "Charlie, maybe you should call Don and your father. I know you've had problems but…"_

"_No," Charlie said firmly. "No, they never knew her … they never call me. Leave it alone, Mike. Please respect my wishes on this matter."_

_Mike nodded and walked away._

_The rhythmic cadence that pervades the ritual of death had taken over his very existence. He took a quick shower and changed his clothes. He chose a dress from his wife's vast wardrobe, one he knew to be her favorite. He retrieved her rosary, and the bible she had received for her confirmation from her nightstand. He went into the baby's room and added a small teddy bear he had bought just the week before and placed in the cradle Mike had made. He saw the questioning look Mike gave him. _

_"My son will need a friend," he said caressing the small stuffed animal. "When I was little I had a bear named Albert. He kept me company when no one else would." He took them with him to the funeral home. _

_Mike stood at his side while he picked out a casket __—__ rosewood with silver handles __—__and a blanket of flowers that would cover it. Flowers at a funeral were not a part of his Jewish tradition but they were a part of hers and he wanted Dee and his baby to have the very best. Her family already had a plot and there was a space near her mother so at least that was one decision he did not have to make._

_Mike had tenderly put his arm around his shoulders when the funeral director handed him a small box containing her rings. They had come with her from the hospital. He remembered the day he had slipped the engagement ring on her slender finger and short time later; they stood in the church, exchanged wedding rings, and vowed to stay together until death— now, the vow complete, they were returned to him. That was the only time during the entire process he nearly fell apart. _

_The arrangements made and the details taken care of, things became almost mechanical in their cadence. By the time they returned to the apartment, everyone knew about his loss and the offers of condolences began. He would nod and shake the men's hand, accept quick awkward hugs from the women, some of whom he scarcely knew. _

_Father Dave arrived looking tired and pale. He helped Charlie plan the service, even helping to choose even the music since Charlie knew little about such things. The only request Charlie had was that they include Chopin and of course Ruby James. He knew she would like that. _

_Will and Gus manned the phones and helped answer the constantly ringing doorbell. Emilio and his wife arrived and told him not to worry about the food for the gathering at the apartment after the funeral; they would take care of everything. They were both almost inconsolable. Charlie found himself comforting them. He found himself comforting a lot of people during the following days._

_One part of the ritual melded into another, a skillfully choreographed dance. He barely had time to think much less grieve. The viewing at the funeral home faded into the service at the church, the same one they had exchanged their vows in just a few months before. Then came the procession to the cemetery, a line of black cars led by the hearse and a police escort. _

_The day they laid Dee and the baby to rest was bright and sunny. Somehow that felt wrong. Charlie felt like it should be raining. Didn't it always rain at funerals? And the service at the grave site __—__ friends and associates filing by, dropping roses on the casket, followed by another round of handshakes and hugs. 'I'm sorry for your loss,' followed by his obligatory 'Thank you for coming.' It was all so surreal like scenes from a movie. It was immeasurably difficult to turn his back and walk away from the grave. It might have been impossible if Mike and Will hadn't taken his arms and steered him towards the car. _

_Soon they were back at the apartment and people started to arrive. He spoke to them but couldn't really remember it later. It was like some bizarre social gathering but then __—__his mother's had been the same. He had covered all the mirrors in the house, his one concession to his own traditions. _

_After his mother's death, he had wondered how his father had handled it all. Now he knew. You put yourself on autopilot and the ritual its self keeps you so occupied thinking is impossible. Maybe that's the purpose of the dance __—__ to hold off sorrow for a little while longer until all the requirements of our proper society are suitably fulfilled._

_He looked up once to see dozens of people milling around his home, some of them good friends, some almost strangers to him. They stood in small groups eating food served by Emilio and Alyssa, talking in hushed tones, laughing quietly. He moved from person to person, group to group making sure everyone had enough food, and enough to drink, the perfect host __—__ the perfect bereaved husband exhibiting just the right amount of grief so as not to make anyone else uncomfortable. _

_He was constantly in motion never stopping, never sitting. Mike, Will and Gus were looking at him with concern, asking him if he was all right, if he wanted to lie down for a while. Everyone would understand. Maybe __**they**__ would, but __**he **__wouldn't. He had to get through it for Dee's sake, for his child's sake. He had to __—__ man-up. _

_About halfway through the ordeal, he saw Gus standing alone in a corner, a 6'6" two hundred and seventy pound mass of sobbing mercenary. He found himself putting his arm around his friend's massive form the best he could and comforting him, helping him to take off the jacket and tie he had worn as a part of his status as pall-bearer. He was obviously uncomfortable in the suit Will had helped him pick out. The last thing Dee would want was for him to be uncomfortable. She liked him as he was, awful fashion sense and all. The only people who would care about the damned jacket didn't matter, Charlie assured him._

_Then it was over. The cadence of the ritual slowly spun to a halt and, one by one or in small groups, the dancers began exiting the stage. Emilio cleaned up the kitchen and put the leftovers in the refrigerator for later. He and his wife quietly left, brushing off Charlie's sincere expressions of gratitude for all they had done, telling him that there would always be a table available at their restaurant for him no matter how busy they were. Soon there was no one left except himself and his small band of brothers. He mindlessly began trying to pick up the debris as if after one of his wife and his huge dinner parties. _

"_Charlie, we'll take care of it," Mike had firmly grabbed his shoulder. "Charlie, stop!" _

_The apartment was deathly still and quiet. He stood in the middle of the living room holding a tray of glasses and cups he had gathered. "I can't. Dee doesn't like it when…when…we always clean up after…" He said shaking from head to foot. _

_Suddenly he couldn't breathe. All the air had been sucked from the room and __—__ with the protective barrier of the ritual gone __— __it all came crashing down on his head. He raised his arms and with an agonized scream, slammed the tray onto the hardwood floor. He heard glass shatter as the shards and the remains of coffee, soda and wine flew in all directions. _

_He stood, his desperate eyes wide with shock, gasping for air, "Oh God, look what I did! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to…I made such a mess. I'll clean it up right away. I just need…" He muttered mortified at his actions. He started to kneel and pick up the glass when Mike grasped his elbow._

"_CHARLIE, STOP IT!" This time he shouted, pulling his friend to his feet. He put his hands on either side of his face, holding him, "Stop it," he repeated gently but firmly. Then his arms folded around the trembling smaller man. Without taking his eyes off him, he gave orders to the others, "Take care of this mess. Police the rest of the place. I'm putting him to bed before he collapses on us."Mike was in full Marine Gunnery Sergeant mode and there was no use arguing with him. _

_Charlie had no memory of being undressed but the next thing he knew Mike was smoothing the covers over him holding a glass of water and a pill._

"_The doctor left these for you. There aren't many, just enough to help you through a few nights. I want you to take this and get some rest," he said lifting Charlie's head and holding the glass to his lips. Charlie swallowed the medication without protest and lay back on the cool pillows._

"_I really embarrassed myself didn't I?" he whispered as Mike sat in the chair next to the bed._

"_Fuck, you've been out on the town with the Hardy Boys. Do you really think breaking a few glasses is so embarrassing? That's child's play compared to some of the shit those two pull. Remember their rendition of Endless Love at Maw-Maw's last birthday party? I thought those rednecks were going to feed them to the gators," Mike said and laughed softly. "Don't worry about it little partner. If you can't lose it with your brothers, then who can you lose it with? Now just be quiet and let that pill work. We're going to be here as long as you need us."_

_Charlie felt his eyelids getting heavy. He tried to fight the urge to sleep but he was finding it more and more difficult to stay awake. "Why are you always there for me Mike? You and the guys, no matter what, you're always there."_

"_We can say the same for you little partner." Mike leaned and pulled the covers over his shoulders, "If it hadn't been for you that damned, sweet, fool of a grizzly bear would be …We all owe you a huge debt and we haven't forgotten. We never will. Now, shut up and go to sleep."_

xxx

"The world really doesn't give you much time to recover from loss." Charlie said with a heavy sigh. "People all had to get back to their own lives and they expected the same of me. Within a week my publisher called with a reminder that I was up against a deadline. I was consulting for the FBI on a case and they needed my input. They were sorry to push at such a difficult time but agents lives depended on my work."

"And the lawyers, Don, I've never spoken to so many lawyers in my life. Mike was ready to kick some lawyer ass if they didn't back off. According to her will, I was Dee's sole heir. I inherited the money, the apartment and the house in the Vineyard. But along with the wealth I also inherited the responsibilities for about a dozen foundations and God…it was all so over whelming. I tried to meet everyone's expectations but I don't think I did."

"I tried to set up some kind of routine. That's what they say you're supposed to do to deal with loss. Set up a routine. I'd get up at five AM and have coffee on the terrace. Then I'd work on some equations, my own or if I'm consulting for someone, a client's, until four or five at which time I'd take a few calls, and grab some dinner. I rarely ate more than a bowl of soup and I couldn't finish that most of the time. I'd finish my equations around ten then I'd move on my latest book or paper until one or two in the morning. I'd usually make a cup of herbal tea and go to bed so I could start the whole thing over again the next day. I pretty much kept to that routine seven days a week. I still do much of the time."

"I didn't realize it but I had fallen in to a deep depression. I felt as if someone had scooped out all my insides, put them in a Cuisinart and hit puree. The world appeared to be painted entirely in shades of gray. I'd take walks in the park and everything seemed … colorless and cold. I was always so cold. I could never get warm. Every muscle, bone and nerve in my body ached. Even my skin hurt. I was constantly in physical pain."

"The only thing that kept me going was the belief that soon spring would come and I'd feel better, I'd feel warm. I kept thinking that when spring came, I'd feel alive again. But Don, when spring finally arrived … nothing changed. If anything, I felt worse and then I remembered a student when I was at Princeton and how he ended his misery. The Prentice Maggio Solution, we called it. It solves all problems. We used to whisper that phrase in the halls when things got really tough." He felt Don's hands close tighter on his and he could see his brother had gone very pale. "Suddenly suicide seemed a very viable and logical choice. I could end my own pain and I'd no longer be a burden to Mike or anyone else."

"Oh buddy." Don said softly his voice breaking. "When I came out of the bathroom and I didn't see you, I ran out on the terrace …I thought you had…" Don felt a tear run down his cheek.

Charlie lifted his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile, "Don, we're twenty-nine floors up!" He said sounding a little amused.

"I know," Don said feeling a little humiliated.

"This is the top floor of this building!"

Don only nodded blushing. "I'm aware."

"I swear to you I have no desire to wind up street pizza," he chuckled softly touching his brother's cheek wiping away the tears. "Besides there is no way in hell I could land without taking out a few pedestrians. I'm not _that _selfish and if I was going to take myself out I'd find a way that didn't involve plummeting to the ground. Heights are not my favorite thing. Whenever we're deployed and I'm forced to do a jump I always make _**that**_ sound."

"What sound?" Don asked with a frown.

"That sound Al Bundy makes when he falls off the roof on _Married with Children_." Charlie did a perfect impression of the Bundy shout.

"Damn it, Charlie," now both men laughed. "Please don't ever joke about harming yourself." Don said fighting off the urge to smack the back of his brother's head.

Charlie squeezed his brother's hand and continued. "One day I woke up at the usual hour. I looked at the clock and closed my eyes and went back to sleep. The next time I woke up it was night and I still didn't get up. I simply stopped functioning. I would drag myself to the bathroom and then back to bed. I didn't speak to or acknowledge anyone for weeks. The only sustenance I took was food Mike forced me to eat. I was fading away. I just no longer cared and I no longer saw the point of trying," he smiled. "Fortunately for me — though I didn't think so at the time — Gunny Donovan is not a very tolerant man and I guess he had had more than enough of Zombie Charlie."

xxx

_For him, it was always night. The light had melted away like a candle left to burn too long and life had become a pool of wax from that candle with no form, no clear edges. If it hadn't been for the pain that racked his frail body, he might have believed himself to be a phantom haunting his home, forever searching for his lost love __—__ and never finding her. _

_Death hovered over his bed, a shadow waiting to whisk him away, finally give him peace. He felt weightless, his body supported by the bed, and yet he was being crushed by air almost too thick to breathe. He wanted it all to simply end. He didn't care anymore, nothing mattered, no one mattered. _

_He had long since set his affairs in order. His dear friends would all be well taken care of and the family, who so coldly cut him from their lives,__ would never again have to worry about money. He would leave them very well off. Maybe __**then **__they would think better of him. He took a deep breath. Suddenly __through the thick mist that clouded his tormented mind __—__ Charlie Eppes knew that he was no longer alone._

_He lifted his head from the pillow, opened his eyes and frowned, "Mike, what the hell are you doing in my bed and why are you smoking that stinking cigar?" He asked weakly._

"_Because, my little partner, your angst filled, self-absorbed living dead act is getting fucking boring," Mike took a puff on the cigar, crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. _

"_Combat boots!" Charlie hissed looking down at his friend's crossed ankles. "You're wearing combat boots in my bed? These are designer sheets!"_

_"OOOO, I'm so fucking impressed," Mike said in a deadpan voice and flicked ashes into a crystal dish on the nightstand._

"_That's Wedgwood!" Charlie turned on to his back and tangled his fingers in his matted hair._

"_Look, Princess Chuck __—__ don't you think it's time you crawled out of this silk-lined coffin of yours, got a shower and rejoined the rest of us on this suck-fest of a theme park ride we call life?" Mike asked looking at his friend with steely gray eyes._

"_And while you're at it, run a razor over your face. You look more like Charlie Manson than Charlie Eppes," another voice interjected._

"_What the…" Charlie lifted himself up on one elbow and glared at Will Jennet sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed grinning and puffing away on a Cuban._

"_You do resemble a fuckn' mangy ol' swamp hound I once had," another voice added and a startled Charlie turned to see Gus sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed leaning against the mattress, "Ya smell a little like him to." He tossed back a bottle of Jack and shoved a cigar in his mouth. _

_Charlie sighed heavily and lay back down throwing his arm over his eyes. "Will all of you please just get out of here and leave me the hell alone!" _

"_Gus here found a new dive bar with Thursday night karaoke. We're all going down there and…" Will said._

"_THEN GO, PLEASE JUST GO!" Charlie shouted and turned over onto his stomach._

_Mike Donovan cursed under his breath then said, "Gentlemen, please leave us alone for a minute. We'll be right out and we can all go out for a fun evening in the Big Apple."_

_Charlie heard the sound of movement and the door opening. Before it closed he heard Gus huff, "Gunny, make shur' ya turn the hose on that boy. I weren't kiddn' 'bout that damned ol' hound dawg smell." The door shut and they were alone. _

_Mike stood and laid his hand on Charlie's back. "Look, I know you're hurting but…"_

"_You don't know anything, Donovan. You don't know a fucking thing about me." The second the words left his mouth Charlie knew he had gone too far. Mike had reached the end of his rope. _

"_Well, I tried to be gentle," the marine hissed as he roughly grabbed Charlie flipped him over and pulled him into a sitting position shoving him against the headboard. "Listen to me…we've all lost people we loved, we've all known pain but we carry on despite it."_

"_I…" Charlie gasped._

"_So your fucking family rejected you, big deal. Gus's mother left him for a trucker when he was ten and mine tossed me in the trash the day I was born. We both survived so GET THE HELL OVER IT!" Mike shouted and shoved Charlie hard against the headboard causing him to hit his head, "You lost your wife and child, Charlie that was a terrible tragedy. My heart bleeds for you, please know that but…you have people who love you. You will never be alone __—__ never. You are loved and that is a gift!" _

_He took a step back. "This is not some Charlotte fucking Bronte book and life, Charlie; life is not a gothic novel. You can't just will yourself to death. If you insist upon dying you have to be proactive about it." He bent, reached into a duffle bag and pulled out a Sig. He chambered a round and slammed it hard into Charlie's chest. "I took this from your go bag. This is the gun I trained you with; the one you used to save Gus's ass, the one you used to save your own ass __—__ the one you used to end the nightmare. This is YOUR gun, Charlie, a part of you just as I told you it would become, so I suppose it's poetic for you to use it to end everything __—__ if you must." He turned and looked back over his shoulder, "Just do all of us a favor and go in the shower to do it. It'll make it much easier on those of us who have to clean up after you."He walked out of the room and closed the door. _

_For a long time Charlie just stared after him tightly clutching the Sig in his shaking hands. He found himself breathing as Mike had taught him so long ago. Inhale on a four count and exhale on the same. Steady your mind, steady your hand, and find that place where only the moment exists and then— and only then— act. He threw the covers aside and stood. Clutching the weapon that he had reluctantly accepted as a gift from Mike in what seemed like another lifetime, he stood. _

_Slowly he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the light. He stared in the mirror at a face he scarcely recognized. "Shit, I do look like Charles Manson!" He whispered. _

_He looked at the gun he held. It would be so easy to use it. Done correctly it wouldn't even be painful, at least not for long. He looked at the face again and carefully sat the weapon that, once upon a time, he never would have touched, but necessity had made an extension of his own arm, down on the vanity-top. 'Pacifists die in wars, Eppes, just as quickly as soldiers. Bullets don't discriminate.' Mike had said the first time he had refused to pick up the weapon. And that had proved to be so true, so sadly, wretchedly, prophetically true._

_Through weeks of a hellacious trial by fire, the tough, indomitable, gung-ho marine had taught the thoroughly green, reticent, terrified meek little math professor to stay alive. He learned his lessons well __—__ very, very well. "Far too well for this," he whispered and opened the medicine cabinet. _

_He found a pair of scissors and snipped away at his scraggly beard. Then shrugging out of his sweat pants, he turned on the shower, waited for the water to get hot and stepped inside. He washed his hair first then ran a razor over his face. For a moment, he considered going back to bed but fought the urge. Mike was right. He had to get back into life. Dee would want that. _

"_Well, look whose back!" Will Jennet said with a grin as he entered the room still running a comb through his wild curls. "Prof. Charlie Vanity. We have missed you."_

"_Bastard," Charlie said bristling at the nickname Mike used every time he spent too much time trying to get his hair to behave. "So, where are we going?" Charlie asked._

"_To this little dive of a redneck bar we found. Gus and I want to sing some Dolly Parton," Will said as the four of them headed for the elevator._

_Charlie stopped dead, "Maybe I should go back to bed," he groaned. "I'm feeling a little…" _

"_It's too late now little partner," Mike grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to move, "If I've got to suffer through this, you do."_

"_Where the hell did you find a redneck bar on the Upper West Side? Did Donald Trump miss one or something?" Charlie asked as the doors slid closed. _

_Later __—__ sitting at a table in the back of a noisy bar Charlie nursed a cold beer, making little circles in the condensation on the cheap black mica with the finger of his right hand. He looked up when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder._

"_Hey, how're you doing?" Mike asked gently._

_Charlie shrugged. "Maintaining," he said softly._

"_You'll get there," Mike took a swig of his beer. _

_Charlie only nodded and narrowed his eyes, "Mike, what made you so sure I wouldn't do it? When you handed me that gun, I was in bad shape, weren't you taking a big chance? How did you know I wouldn't blow my brains all over the wall?" He asked._

_Mike sat his beer down and looked at his friend for a long moment, "Charlie, a man who has survived all you have doesn't take his own life. You're far too tough for that, my friend."_

"_You didn't answer my question, GySgt Donovan," Charlie pointed out. "I could make that an order."_

_Mike looked amused. "Hold out your hand __—__ Major Eppes," he said and Charlie obeyed._

_One by one Gunny Donovan dropped 'bullets' in Charlie's out-stretched hand. Charlie opened his eyes wide and looked at his friend. "Snap caps," he said staring at the clear red plastic objects resting in his palm. Their purpose was to absorb the shock so you could test and dry-fire a gun without damaging the firing pin. Beyond that, they were harmless. "You replaced my ammo with snap caps!"_

"_I was 99.9 percent sure you wouldn't do it, but that one tenth of one percent was a chance I wasn't willing to take." Mike took a swig of his beer, "You need to clean your weapon by the way. It's filthy. I taught you better than that."_

_Charlie tossed the caps on the table with a shake of his head. He took a sip of cold beer. "So now what? Do I get an earful of the gospel according to GySgt Donovan?"_

_Mike put his head back and laughed. He waved at the waitress, ordering another round. "Are you new? Of course, you're going to get an earful of my sage advice! And ready or not, here it comes," he leaned forward his elbows resting on the table, "Charlie, I know you better than anyone in this world does __—__ probably even better than you know yourself. I've watched you over the years and I've seen the man you've become."_

"_Dr. Eppes, you have more heart in your pint sized body than men twice your size. You are a brave man, and I respect you, no, I salute you." He held up his glass in a toast and smiled at the way Charlie looked down blushing to his ears. He continued in a soft voice, "You've been knocked to the ground, Charlie __—__ you've been knocked down hard, but you're on your way to getting up again and you will, little partner, you will. You just need to stop being so hard on yourself. You need to take things a day at a time and you need to let us help you."_

"_There's no shame in needing help, Charlie or in asking for it. You can call any one of us at any hour of the day, even in the middle of the night. We've called you haven't we __—__ just to talk when old battles are a little too close __—__ at three AM?" _

_Charlie slowly nodded. "That seems like the worst hour, doesn't it…three AM?"_

_Mike nodded in agreement. "The ghosts always seem more active about then," he said softly then he continued with his original train of thought. "Family, Charlie, that's what the pack is. To hell with that bunch out there in … Mordor. Fuck 'um, WE'RE family." _

"_We're a mangy bunch of old wolves but we're pretty much all most of us have. Rick … Rick's been scarred and crippled by war but, bless him, he's making it through Charlie," he sat back. "I guess it's going to be my unfortunate lot in life to kick all of you back into place when you get out of line and take a bite out of your asses when you don't listen to me and fuck up," he smiled, "and, of course, to dispense sage advice, whether you assholes want it or not." _

_He gestured towards Charlie with his glass, "And then there's you, little partner, our resident genius. You may be long on book sense but damn it, sometimes you are short on common sense. You don't listen to Gunny then, when you land on your head, you look at me and ask what the hell happened. God, I'm tempted to take a belt to your skinny ass sometimes. You can be such a fucking know it all intellectual but … the rest of us have trusted you with our lives__—__ and we would again __— __anytime. In fact, I __**know**__ we will, probably sooner than later. This wicked old world hasn't changed, my friend and it never will." He sighed, "And there's …"_

_And as if on cue the words of 'Islands in the Stream,' floated down from the stage. Mike stopped his impromptu speech, rolled his gray eyes and grimaced, "And as with any family, some of us are more embarrassing than others," he said laughing and shaking his head._

_Charlie joined him and the rowdy, drunken crowd cheering and clapping for his two buddies, beer glasses raised on high, arms around each other's shoulders giving their loud and enthusiastic musical homage to Ms. Parton. And he came to his feet with everyone else when their first song was followed by an even more rousing version of 'Nine to Five.'_

_Later, relaxing in the entertainment room of Charlie's apartment, Mike Donovan and Will Jennet finished a last beer of the day as they watched Gus and Charlie sitting in front of the big screen, controller's in hand playing the latest version of Gears of War, arguing like a couple of kids. _

"_You fucking killed me while I changed weapons, you little asshole!" Gus shouted. _

"_That's not against the rules, old man. You have to be faster." Charlie shouted back._

_Gus kicked at his opponent's feet."Old man! Listen to me you little gnome, you're not that much younger …"_

"_Who's calling who a gnome, you __—__ Sasquatch?" Charlie yelled. _

"_You did it again!" Gus shoved Charlie._

"_Damn it, here let me show you how to…" he reached for Gus's controller. _

"_Leave the damned thing alone! I don't need your help!" _

_Will leaned towards Mike, "Father, do you think we should intervene?" he asked with a smile._

"_No, Mother, leave the kids alone." Mike said shaking his head. "I haven't seen Charlie laugh like this in a long time. Gus knows exactly what he's doing."_

"_Gnome!" The big man shouted, tossing the controller at Charlie._

"_Sasquatch!" Charlie yelled, dodging it and shouting when bear- like arms clasped him, wrestling him to the floor. Suddenly he performed one of those unlikely squiggles that is the province of smaller men, wresting himself from the vice-like grip of his friend and he charged from the room, Gus right at his heels._

_Later, sitting on the couch beside Mike watching as Gus and Will battled it out in Black Ops, Charlie glanced at Mike who was yawning._

_"I don't know, Donovan, I think you might be slipping," Charlie said slyly. _

_"Meaning what?" Mike asked._

_"Your speeches used to sound so… kickass. A couple of times tonight you sounded like a Josh Groban song. I expected you to break into 'You Are Loved' at any second." Charlie grinned._

_Mike glared at him, "Bastard!" he huffed._

_"Grobanite!" Charlie shot back and they both leaned their heads against the couch back and yawning, fell asleep._

xxx

"Don," Charlie looked at his brother. "Do you remember that day I found those things of Mom's Dad had stashed in the garage?"

"Yeah, Yeah I do. You were pretty upset about it," Don said.

Charlie took a moment to look around the room. "Have you ever thought that maybe we were wrong about pushing him to get rid of everything? Maybe we had no right to do that."

Don sighed, "I don't know, buddy. In the end, Dad seemed to think it was time."

"Maybe," Charlie reached in the box and sorted through a few more photos. "Mike thinks I need to make some changes around here," he said softly.

"What kind of changes?" Don asked.

Charlie shrugged, "I haven't slept in my own bed in years. I sleep in my office or in the living room on the couch. I almost never come in here or in the baby's room. It's so difficult … I just can't face…" he sighed. "Mike thinks I should give Dee's clothes and the baby things to charity and I should redecorate." He smiled, "his opinion is that though I spend far too much time primping my hair, I don't need an antique ladies vanity at which to do it. Of course he also thinks I should just get a high and tight and save a lot of time."

Charlie looked away for a second. "And there's the flowers, Dee loved fresh flowers. She had a standing order every week with the florist. I know I should stop the deliveries but … it's not easy, Don."

"I know, buddy." Don gently squeezed his brother's hand.

"The guys tell me I should move the painting over the fireplace to the house in the Vineyard or to the retreat in Washington. I asked what they think I should do to replace it. They came up with a few suggestions like dogs playing poker. Gus is partial to that painting of Marilyn Monroe and Bogart sitting in a dinner, you know the one."

Don chuckled and nodded.

"He mentioned that I can even get one with neon lights that work as if that's a selling point. Will suggested an Escher print since I'm a mathematician and he used a great deal of math in his work, in particular tessellations…" Charlie waved his hand when he saw the blank look on Don's face. "Anyway I'm trying to avoid insanity not embrace it and his work really wouldn't suit this place. Mike insists I need to do _something _because I can't bring a woman here with my late wife watching over us every second. He doesn't get it that I'm not interested in bringing anyone here, not yet," he sighed

"Charlie," Don laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, "Maybe Donovan is right," he said gently, "about some of it, anyway."

"I know," Charlie said hoarsely. "I think that's what's been so wrong with me lately. I know it's time to let go but it feels like I'm admitting that Dee doesn't live here anymore."

"Buddy…"

"It's macabre, isn't it; keeping these rooms like this, just like the night she died." Charlie said. "Macabre and kind of sick."

"Maybe just a little," Don put his hand on the back of his brother's head. "Charlie, you don't have to do it all at one time. You can do some of the small things first like stopping the flower deliveries and move on from there. And when you're ready to take care of some of her things or the baby things, I'll fly in and help you if you like."

Charlie sniffed and nodded, "It's been kind of a rough night, hasn't it?" He asked looking up.

"Yeah, it has," Don said.

Suddenly Charlie looked at the clock and saw the time. He stood up and pulled his bother to his feet, "Come on, big brother," he said. "We can't let Perrier Jouet go to waste."

Don followed Charlie into the kitchen and watched as he popped the cork on the expensive Champagne and poured them each a glass, "It's New York City, Don We have to do this right. It's been a while since I've enjoyed it, but maybe… tonight since the company is so good…"

He led Don out onto the terrace. Next-door a dozen people had gathered on the adjacent terrace and everyone was shouting, laughing and more than a little drunk. Don heard the squeal of female laughter and he saw a sequined top fly over the edge of the building and flutter off into the dark like an expensive designer butterfly to the cheers of all. Another soon followed it on its journey to the street, then another.

"Does this kind of thing often?" Don asked amazed.

"It happens all the time," Charlie answered with a shake of his head.

And then the countdown began ending with a cacophony of cheers from all sides. "Happy New Year, big bro," Charlie said warmly and held up his glass.

"Happy New Year, buddy," Don said and clinked glasses with Charlie.

They each took a sip and turned to watch the magnificent display as fireworks exploded over the river and the bitter-sweet strains of Auld Lang Syne rose from every apartment and from the street below. The two brothers rested their hands on each other's shoulders. Don glanced at Charlie. He wanted to hug him but knew it was too soon. They still had some work to do but they were well on their way and in time, it was going to be all right between them.

Across the way three girls leaned over the railing, waving and screaming, 'Baby Bear, we love you, Happy New Year and Happy New Year Baby Bear's big brother!'

"Happy New Year, ladies," Charlie and Don held up their glasses and waved, "Alexia, get off that chair and please be careful." Charlie shouted.

For a few more minutes, they watched the celebration until both of them had had enough of the cold and they stepped back inside. Charlie poured each of them another glass of Champagne. He was getting ready to suggest they retire to the entertainment room to watch TV when the doorbell rang.

"It's just the girls," Charlie said. "I only hope they remembered to put on tee shirts. They forget sometimes when they're drunk," he said.

He pulled the door open, "Alexia, you …" and he froze mid-sentence and grinned. "I thought all of you were in Florida!" He stepped aside as his friends entered the room one at a time, each giving him a huge hug.

Gus literally lifted him off the floor, and swung him back and forth. "Maw-Maw weren't quite up to puttin' up with us this year. She's startin' to feel her years a bit. We was right next door the whole time so's Gunny here could kiss his woman at the stroke of midnight." He cut his eyes towards Don then released his small bundle and stepped aside.

Mike Donovan entered last, slipping his arm around his partner. He pulled him into a hug. "Happy New Year, little partner," he said tenderly and rested his chin on the top of Charlie's head eyes locked on Don. "We know you prefer to be alone so we were going to give you a couple of days before we made ourselves known but — since you had company anyway we decided to surprise you."

He smiled, his viper like gaze still on Don and in a voice that was ominously soft, he hissed, "Surprise!"

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Ten

Mike released Charlie and stepped aside. "Hey partner, everyone wanted to see you," he whispered with a smirk. "Since you already had company, I didn't think you'd mind."

Charlie looked confused for a second then the door burst open and a sparkling, bejeweled, expensively dressed swarm descended upon them. Some of the faces Don recognized, some he didn't but they all had several things in common. They were all very rich, very drunk and very loud. And they were all very, very beautiful in that almost surreal Hollywood way of being beautiful.

A few greeted Charlie as he greeted them with polite words and one of those European not quite a kiss on both cheeks moves but most seemed, sincerely glad to see him and greeted him warmly and with genuine affection.

Don Eppes stood back and watched in fascination as their quiet evening deteriorated into bedlam. Despite the famous and somewhat infamous faces surrounding him and the chaos they inevitably brought with them, a large portion of his attention remained focused on Mike Donovan and his two friends. He was reasonably certain the three of them would not cause any trouble in Charlie's home but on the other hand, they had obviously been drinking and by the occasional glances cast his way, Don was all too aware that he was far from one of their favorite people.

The ladies had, to Charlie's great relief, remembered to cover their _attributes _before invading his apartment though not as completely as he would have preferred. Destiny seemed to be under the impression that the year was 1978, she was at CBGB's and that she was channeling Wendy O' Williams of the Plasmatics. She had spiked her hair into a Mohawk and opted to improvise a pair of pasties from strips of electrical tape. Her silver metallic jeans looked like someone had made diagonal slashes up the sides revealing a hint of her lace thong panties and firm butt cheeks.

Alexia had donned a tiny, tight, pink Juicy Couture tee shirt that left little to the imagination. She had it pulled over an almost nonexistent black sequined Prada skirt. Cradled in her arms was a tiny ball of fur wearing a little Happy New Year's hat, a designer shirt with matching jeweled collar, and oddly enough, a tiny jeweled eye patch.

Misty Sue, like all of Alexia's 'babies' both two legged and four, came from what Mike called the 'seconds rack'. When the beautiful, kindhearted heiress, saw her at the shelter, the little animal had so many injuries that her vet bill was going to be astronomical. Couple that fact with the fact that she was not a young dog, she had been condemned to be 'put to sleep' as the saying goes. Alexia stepped in, paid for her care and took the elderly, abused dog home to live out her remaining years in luxury.

"Happy New Year, Baby Bear!" She squealed, kissing Charlie on the lips and pushing the panting little creature up to his face. "Misty Sue wants to say hello to her favorite uncle!"

Charlie had no choice but to take the little animal. She instantly began wagging her curled tail so hard the entire dog was wiggling and excitedly licking Charlie's face, covering him with Pomeranian love. Charlie pretended to be annoyed but Don noticed he held Misty Sue, tenderly stroking her perfectly groomed perfumed fur for the much of their visit.

Don's eyes scanned the milling horde unsure of how to react to what he was experiencing. Several people introduced themselves though it was not necessary. Don recognized their faces before he was told their names. He had certainly seen them often enough on the cover of those magazines you see at the supermarket checkouts.

There was a least three pop star/actresses one of whom had been arrested so many times for drugs or disorderly conduct, everyone had lost count long ago. She was clinging to the arm of a movie star more famous for the drama of his personal life than any work he had accomplished. An androgynous rock star whose band had won a Grammy for best album for two years running and who may or may not be gay sat at the piano and began playing and singing songs from Gilbert and Sullivan's _HMS Pinafore_.

One of the stars of a very popular sitcom had an arm draped over his younger brother's shoulder. Much to Charlie's embarrassment, he was exuberantly relating a story about Charlie, Dee, Mike and Alexia.

A few years earlier, the three of them narrowly escaped arrest after an altercation at a trendy nightclub degenerated into a brawl. However, the real moral of his story was how that brush with the law had resulted in the creation of one of the group's favorite cocktails by none other than Dr. Charles Edward Eppes.

"Bob!" A mortified Charlie interrupted, "My brother is an FBI agent! I'm not sure he should hear about me running from the cops! Besides, Alexia was completely justified in her actions. That idiot grabbed her," he turned even redder, "her… ahhhh," he stammered.

"Boob, Sweetie," Alexia slipped her arm around his waist. "Your brother is a big boy. I'm sure he's heard the word before and I'm sure our silly little adventure is nothing to him," she kissed him on the cheek.

"Don, I swear it was all Alexia and Mike's fault," Charlie said looking at his amused brother who seemed to be taking great pleasure in his discomfort. "I had no idea what was going on until I heard screaming. Then I saw Mike hopping over tables with two bouncers on his ass. I found out later that Alexia had clocked some jerk at the bar with her shoes and Mike finished the job with a right jab. Before I had time to react, the girls grabbed my hands screaming that the cops were coming and they dragged me into the lady's room. I had to slither out of this tiny little window on to a dumpster. Thank God, that lid was closed or things would have been worse. Alexia tossed me her damned Ferragamos and a bottle of Absolut Dee nabbed from the back bar in all the confusion. I helped the girls out the window and we took off. I thought we had gotten away with it but no such luck." He glared at the blonde at his side who couldn't stop giggling.

"They charged down the alley thinking they'd made a clean getaway and who did they run headlong into? TMZ no less!" The actor all but howled and patted Charlie on the back.

"They proceeded to chase them halfway down the Boulevard! That's when I spotted them. I was on my way home and I saw the commotion. I knew Alexia had to have done something, I mean, she's always doing something to get in trouble but I decided to come to her rescue anyway. I laid on my horn to get their attention and they hopped in my convertible. Then Mike appeared from nowhere and dove headfirst into the front seat. Considering the situation, a sensible woman would have ducked down but not our Alexia! She just couldn't resist the urge to drop the top of her dress and flash the paparazzi, and shoot them the finger and _that's_ the picture that hit the magazines."

"We went back to my place. Dee insisted we needed to get rid of the evidence, i.e. the bottle of vodka, and what better way to accomplish that than to drink it. Dee and Charlie decided to make dirty martinis but thought that was too ordinary so they tweaked them a bit," the actor continued then nodded at Charlie to finish the story.

Charlie groaned, his face still beet red, he finished the story. "We replaced the vermouth with Lucid Absinthe and added a drop of this and a twist of that, I'll never tell what, and an anchovy olive. We chilled it so cold it will make your hands ache to hold the glass and that is how the StolenAbsotini you all love so much was created." He took a quick stage bow as everyone clapped and cheered.

"We've been trying to figure out exactly what you put in them for years but no luck." The actor laughed. "We just know the damned things will knock you on your ass."

Charlie gave Don a sheepish look and shrugged.

Don grinned and shook his head, moving away from the throng. Someone pushed past him jostling his arm causing him to nearly spill his drink. He had never cared for large parties, not even when he was young and in college. The room seemed stuffy and the smell of heady perfume was a bit overwhelming. The one thing the ill at ease agent wanted at that moment was to escape the noisy, raucous crowd and get some fresh air so he discretely slipped out onto the terrace.

Don took a deep, cleansing breath, leaned against the railing and gazed out at the night. He tried to get a handle on the impromptu, celebrity-studded party raging within the apartment but found himself instead pondering unrelated thoughts about his wife and children. _'What a boring, old married man I've become.'_ He thought and glanced at his watch. He realized there was still plenty of time to call Robin since she was on Pacific Time and it was three hours earlier in California but before he could reach for his phone, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Chilly out here, isn't it … Agent Eppes?" Will Jennet took a swig of beer and looked out over the City standing a bit too close to Don's right side for the agent's comfort. "Snow's stopped but it's still pretty icy."

"And slicker than shit," Gus Holiday added as he sidled in from the left, "Dang man, we sur are high up!" He looked over the side of the building, "Just as high the fucking crows fly."

"This is New York City old friend. You'll find more pigeons than crows," Will took another swig of beer, "Isn't that right … Agent Eppes."

"I suppose," Don said feeling his heartbeat quicken as he stood sandwiched between the two formidable men. He couldn't believe he had let his guard down and was now trapped. This was a rookie mistake!

"Wonder how long it'd take a body to hit the sidewalk from up here?" Gus asked leaning over, "bet it'd bust open like a rotten ol' melon."

"You should ask the Doc," Will suggested.

"Hell no, that 'un would go on and on about terminal velocity and math and what all," he said with a huff. "Too fucking much jabberin' when all I asked was how long a'fore a body fallin' off this terrace becomes street salsa."

Will let out an exaggerated sigh and gestured towards his partner. "It's too cold out here. Let's get back inside. Goodnight … Agent Eppes." He nodded at Don as he pushed away from the railing then appeared to slip on the ice.

Gus grabbed his elbow, "Watch it there, partner!" He said. "Told ya it's slicker than a bag o' owl shit out here."

Will turned a dark look on Don. "Better watch your step. A man could take a nasty tumble if he wasn't careful and out here — in the dark — nobody would even notice … Agent Eppes."

The two old friends made their way back inside leaving Don to wonder if he had just been threatened or not. With Charlie's friends off kilter sense of humor it was not always easy to tell. He took a quick glance over the railing and hurried into the light and relative safety of the apartment.

Don's eyes scanned the crowd for his younger brother. He spotted him in the far corner talking to the actor from before. Then his eyes landed on Mike Donovan. The marine and Alexia were standing apart. It had now fallen to Mike to hold the yapping little ball of fur she called Misty Sue. The pairing seemed incongruous, but the larger than life, tough, mercenary, appeared perfectly comfortable with both the fashionable woman and the fragile little dog.

Don watched as Alexia reached up and tenderly kissed Mike then gently cupping his cheek in her slim hand she instructed him to, "Behave yourself, baby!"

Donovan smiled and kissed her affectionately, "Don't I always?" He said.

She rolled her eyes and took her dog from his hands and, as if that was some kind of secret code, the swarm was on the move and soon no one was left except Charlie, Don, — and three of Charlie's closest friends.

"Doc, you got some kind of eats in here besides this leafy hippie crap?" Gus asked as he and Will rummaged through the open refrigerator.

"There's plenty of stuff in there," Charlie exclaimed joining them. "Here's some roast beef, cheese, some bread and here's some chips … this should keep you happy."

The two friends made a stack of sandwiches, got a beer each and retired to the entertainment room to play video games leaving Charlie alone with Mike and Don who were eyeing each other like a couple of tom cats. After a very uncomfortable few minutes the mathematician was going to ask them to sit down when a voice bellowed from the back of the apartment.

"Doc, how the hell do ya operate this danged high tech pile o crap?" Gus asked. "I swear ya could redesign the fuckin' ol space station with it. Can't you get a TV that ya just hit 'on'?

"You two have played that damned thing a hundred times!" Charlie called back.

"Yeah well the big ape here decided he could make it work a little better and now it won't come on at all." Will shouted.

"Gus did what!" Charlie asked exasperated.

"Doc," Will said from the hallway, "I think you had better get in here!"

His eyes went from his brother to Mike Donovan. He seemed to be debating on whether or not he should leave the two alone when the decision was made for him by the sound of breaking glass. "Damn it!" He hissed and ran to discern just what kind of damage his home had suffered.

"I think they're going to be a while," Mike said moving towards Don. "Let's step outside for a minute. I can use a smoke."

Don hesitated for a second remembering all too clearly his earlier encounter with Donovan's two pals. He decided Mike wouldn't dare pull anything at the apartment and that it was time he cleared the air with this very intimidating man. He followed Mike out onto the dark terrace. As they stepped towards the railing Mike offered the FBI agent a cigar. Don politely refused his offer.

"You don't know what you're missing," the marine said clipping off the end and lighting up. "These beauties are considered the world's best. I doubt you could afford them on what the Bureau pays you."

"You do know those are…" the federal agent started to say _illegal _but somehow he knew certain laws didn't apply where this group was concerned so he shut his mouth and tried not to think about terminal velocity and street salsa.

"So I heard my partner rescued you from a fate worse than death." Mike said looking out over the City.

Don didn't answer.

"Well, that's just like him. Sometimes Charlie is way too kindhearted for his own good." Mike took a puff on his cigar and looked at Don. "I heard he took you out to dinner. Did he eat?" Mike asked pointedly.

"Did he …?" Don asked confused.

"These are the easy questions, Eppes! Did Charlie eat dinner or did he do that thing he does where he takes a couple of bites and moves the food around on his plate thinking he is fooling everyone?" Mike demanded.

"No, he ate. He even had dessert." Don said.

"Well, at least there's that." Mike seemed relieved.

Suddenly the FBI agent had second thoughts about trying to talk with Donovan. He started to move past the marine to go back inside but Mike blocked his way. "Oh no, you're not getting off this easy," he hissed.

"Look, Charlie is my brother and our relationship is none of your damned business," Don said using his best FBI voice.

"Your _relationship_! That's a laugh, Eppes! You haven't been around for years. We're the ones who been here. We're the ones who have shared his life, good and bad."

"Charlie…" Don started to say.

"All those years ago when The Agency assigned me as Charlie's bodyguard, I thought he was a spoiled, privileged little intellectual who considered himself better than someone like me. I soon found him to be one of the kindest, gentlest, most intelligent people I had ever met. He was such an open hearted, trusting soul back then! Not even Hicks could beat that out of him! My God, man, not even _**war**_ could beat that out of him," he paused. "No, it took _you_ to kill the trust in him — his loving family."

"Donovan you don't understand the damage…" Don hissed through clenched teeth. "When Charlie left, our father…"

"Suffered — Charlie knows and it hurts him to his very core," Mike interrupted. "But — Don — none of you suffered even a tenth as much he did." He took a deep breath, "While he was away, he used to talk about home all the time." Now Mike's voice was softer. "He dreamed about that old house and about being there with all of you watching TV, eating his dad's food, hanging out in that musky garage. Most of the time dreams of home were all he had to see him through."

"Why the hell did he leave in the first place? I've never understood that!" Don hissed.

Mike's gray eyes were hooded, unreadable, "Don, he left because he loved you so much that he would rather have died than see any of you harmed on his account. He did it to protect _you_." Mike jabbed Don in the chest with his finger to make his point.

"If we meant so damned much to him then why didn't he call, even once to say he was alive?" He asked his voice a hoarse whisper.

"There is so much I could tell you about your little brother, about where's he's been, what was done to him, what he was forced to do in return but, I made a promise, one I'll never break. I respect and love the man far too much and besides, Leavenworth is not my idea of a great place to spend the next twenty years."

Mike let out a heavy sigh. He seemed to be turning things over in his head. Then, his eyes focused on a point somewhere out in the dark and he continued in a soft, low voice, "I will tell you this much even though I probably shouldn't. I think you should understand why Charlie …. They sent twelve of us in initially. After the first month, they called me back to op-com. It was my understanding that I'd rejoin my men in a week but …" he shook his head slowly. "I should have disobeyed orders; I should never have left. Dear Lord — I failed them, I failed my brothers." Don could feel the pain and guilt in the man and hear it in his voice.

"They were betrayed Eppes, by one they trusted, by one who was supposed to keep them safe." His gray eyes looked deep into Don's, "Out of eleven men only five came back, only five!" He closed his eyes for a second, "There are times when I don't think any of us really survived," he whispered.

After a moments silence he continued, "I've only been wrong about a couple of things in my life. There was this girl in San Diego I almost married before I found out she was still married to four other marines. And there was the time I ate a slice of meat pizza that had been in my desk drawer for a day and a half," he smiled. "And there is the time I greatly underestimated the capabilities of a certain annoying little mathematician."

"When I trained Charlie for that mission, I never really believed that he would be able to put the skills I pounded into his thick head to practical use in the field. He was such a fucking … math professor," Mike chuckled.

"But when things came down, he fought with every fiber in his being. He did what he had to do even though he was terrified and even though he found it all so repellent, so ugly. I wasn't there but … someday ask Gus and Will why they would walk through fire for him. Ask them why they would follow him to hell if he asked."

Mike looked deep into Don's eyes. "The one thing that kept Charlie going even when his own math told him it was hopeless, the reason he didn't just lay down and die, was his desire to live long enough to see home again, to sit by that damned koi pond and talk with you about … anything, it didn't matter. He just wanted to be with you — his big brother."

"Against all the fucking odds Charlie survived and thanks to him, my brothers survived." He narrowed his eyes, "And when it was over, Eppes, when he was safe and could have turned his back on it all, _**he went back**_ because," he added emphasizing each word, "We-never-leave-anyone-behind, even if there is nothing left but their bones."

"And when he finally returned to that home he cherished, to that family he had spent every night for months aching for, his reward was to find that he had lost it all. The job he loved, his friends, his family, you all threw him away, discarded him like an old pair of jeans you no longer have a use for." Mike's eyes flashed in anger. "_That_ — Eppes — was the final betrayal, the one that crushed him."

"Donovan, you do know that Charlie still owns the Craftsman. He can live there anytime …" Don said.

Mike only stared then he leaned close and in a near whisper said, "Eppes, having your name on a deed does not make a place home any more than blood makes you brothers."

Don opened his mouth to retort when Mike charged on. "He almost called you when Dee passed away." Mike said silencing Don with those few words. "He wasn't going to at first but he was in so much pain, he needed his family and, for once, I agreed. He would dial your number and then hang up before it rang. Do you know why he never completed those calls?"

Don shook his head.

"Because Eppes, he was terrified that even in the face of such a dreadful tragedy, that you would cut him cold, reject him. I told him I didn't think you were that big a bastard but it was not a chance he was willing to take and there was another far more compelling reason — in his eyes anyway."

Mike licked his lips and continued. "He said that you were all doing so well, that you were finally happy. You and your family were now the center of your father's attention and that was how it should be. How could he come back into your lives and take that away from you? And … after the way he behaved when your mother was sick and when she died, how could he ask for comfort now when he was so useless when you two needed him then?"

Mike shrugged his broad shoulders. "But Charlie is still Charlie and I guess I have to admit that his capacity for forgiveness, his unwavering love and, Eppes, his _**generosity **_even towards those who have harmed him is what makes him so damned endearing."

"If you want him, he'll let you back into his life like he let the old man back but I can promise you it won't be like it was before. These days he keeps almost everyone, Alan included, at arm's length." Mike's eyes turned dark. "He's not the sweet, trusting little soul he once was. He most certainly is not Charlie, meek and mild. He has a dark side and razor sharp teeth. He really can most definitely be … the big bad wolf. He _has _to be to make it in our world. You'd just better hope you never run afoul of THAT Charlie." Mike grinned. "Don't be fooled by his size. He's a fierce little thing when he's protecting those he loves. Believe me, cross him there and you won't like him."

Mike took a puff of his cigar. "So, Eppes — now you have been on the receiving end of one of GySgt Donovan's famous speeches. Charlie swears they are getting longer but I have a lot more wisdom to share as I get older."

He locked eyes with the agent and he took a step closer. "Charlie will forgive you because that is who he is and out of respect for him, we will honor his wishes but, if you hurt him again, if I spend one more night sitting up with him while he agonizes over you I will … well, you don't want to ever find out." He stepped back and chuckled, "Now _THAT_ Agent Eppes is advice you can take to the bank."

"Those two just…" Charlie Eppes stepped out onto the terrace ready to rant about techno-idiots and why they should stay away from anything electronic. He stopped dead when he saw his brother and his friend, "What's going on out here?" He asked as he stepped in between the two men.

"Not a thing, little partner," Mike said slapping Charlie on the back and nodding towards Don, "Just talking with your big brother here enjoying a smoke. I told him we were going to spend a few days in Squaw Valley snowboarding in about two weeks and then we're headed to Florida to help Gus do some repairs around Maw Maw's place. Isn't that right, Don?"

Don hesitated then he smiled and nodded, "Yeah, that's right. We're fine Charlie."

The mathematician's dark eyes went from his friend to his brother, "Riiiight," he said obviously not convinced.

Mike slid his arm around Charlie's shoulders and started back into the apartment, "Look, it's late and we have to drive to Langley tomorrow afternoon so I guess we'd better call it a night."

"Langley?" Charlie asked suddenly tense. "Is something going on?"

"Maybe, but nothing definite. There are a few rumblings but no reason to worry yet. You just enjoy your visit with your brother. We'll let you know if we need you." They walked towards the door leaving Don watching from the other side of the room.

Charlie looked past the marine as his two cohorts entered from the entertainment room and stood beside him. He glanced at his decidedly uncomfortable brother who seemed a bit shaken. A small amused grin touched his face. "Have the three of you been trying to frighten Don?" He asked in a low voice.

"Us?" Will seemed incredulous, "Would we do anything like that, boys?"

Mike shrugged, "We were just letting him know that you have friends. No one threatened him —exactly"

"I can just imagine how you went about that," the smaller man said under his breath.

"Look, it's late so we'll leave you to your company. Unless something comes up, I'll see you in a couple of weeks." Mike smiled. "And if something does come up, I'll see you sooner."

"You aren't staying?" Charlie asked. "Your room is empty you know. The three of you could share. You have before."

Now Mike laughed, "Partner, I've got someone much softer and much sweeter smelling to cuddle up with tonight than these two." Mike said opening the door.

"And we're a bunkin' in with Miss Gina and friend." Gus said. "Happy New Year, lil' Squirrel," he shouted shoving Will out the door.

Mike shook his head as the two stumbled off down the hall. He glanced at Don then he and Charlie stepped out into the hallway and closed the door.

Mike smiled. "Don't worry, we wouldn't hurt a hair on his G-man ass — you know that."

Charlie shook his head, "Yeah, well, asshole or not he is still my brother and you do owe me. Just remember who held your head when you got sick on that home brew of Gus'."

Mike laughed, "I seem to remember you and a bottle of cheap tequila. At least when I worship the porcelain god, you don't have to hold my hair back."

Charlie only smiled. "It's been kind of a rough few years," he said softly, "for all of us."

Mike nodded in agreement, "Maybe this year is the turning point."

"Maybe," Charlie said then a devilish light came into his eyes. "Maybe this is the year you and Alexia decide to tie the knot."

"As I keep telling you neither of us are the marrying kind," Mike said frowning.

"SHHH! Don't you know that even saying that is a curse! Within a year we'll all be standing there in church dressed in tuxes because Alexia will never let you get away with fatigues at her wedding, watching her walk down the aisle with a troop of Pomeranians as bridesmaids." Charlie laughed.

Mike shook his head. "It'll never happen."

Charlie sighed, "Well then here's another possibility. I'm sure they'll change the laws someday soon so … if neither of us has found anyone by New Year's Eve ten years from now, we'll marry each other. How bad could it be? We're practically there anyway."

Mike slipped his arm around his friend and gave him a gentle hug. "You can be such a jerk, Squirrel," he said.

"Right back at you, Moose," Charlie returned the hug.

"Look, if you need us tonight …" Mike glanced at the door.

"Mike, I keep telling you Pasadena is not Mordor and my father and brother are not Sauron and Saruman!" Charlie said exasperation evident in his voice.

Mike nodded not nearly as confident in that fact as his smaller friend. "You do what you think is best but," he said as he separated from Charlie and headed down the hall towards the next apartment, "the offer still holds," he said without turning around.

"You still look like Randy Orton." Charlie shouted.

"Bastard!" Mike shouted back.

Charlie smiled at his departing friend, opened the door and stepped inside.

When Charlie closed and locked the door he turned to see Don sitting on the couch by the fireplace, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"You have ahhh interesting friends," he said as Charlie sat next to him and slumped down, crossing his ankles.

"Only a few of those people are really friends, but yeah … they are interesting," Charlie said with a yawn and jumped when the phone rang. He glanced at caller ID, looked at Don and smiled then he picked up the receiver "Hello Dad … Happy New Year to you to … The weather is better. The snow has stopped but it's still freezing. How are things there?"

He looked at Don and gestured shaking his head, "Dad, if there is a problem with the roof that is why I pay Al. He's my maintenance man. He'll check it out and if I need to call the roofers … Dad, do not go up there! I will send someone! Today is a holiday but I'll have someone there on the second. Now promise me you won't try to fix it yourself … Okay … I love you to, Dad." Charlie smiled at Don silently asking his okay. Don nodded. "Dad, there is someone here who wants to say hello," he said and handed the phone to his brother.

"Happy New Year," Don said softly then he paused, "Dad, are you there?" He grinned, "Who do you think this is, old man!" He laughed. "It's a long story; I'll tell you when I get home … he looks well. We're talking and … yeah, it's great to see him …" He looked at his brother and shook his head, "Dad, don't cry. I know … I love you and I'll see you when I get home. Dad … goodnight." He said and hung up.

"I think he's probably calling everyone he knows about now," Don said then suddenly it hit him, "Robin!" He all but shouted and Charlie laughed as his brother took his cell out of his pocket and hit speed dial to call his wife.

He stood and walked away to give his brother privacy as he spoke with his wife. He gathered the few dishes and glasses scattered throughout the apartment and put them in the dishwasher. When he rejoined Don, his brother looked a little sad.

"Everything all right at home?" Charlie asked concerned.

"Yeah, the kids are asleep now but Robin says they stayed up a little later and played a couple of board games. That's what we do on New Year's Eve. We order pizza and play games. Then after the kids go to bed Robin and I put on our PJ's, open a bottle of champagne, cuddle and watch the ball drop on TV. I guess I miss doing that this year." He blushed and smiled at Charlie, "That must sound really lame to you. I mean you party with actors, jump out of bathroom windows and wind up on TMZ."

"That was all Alexia. She's the one TMZ was chasing. I'm just a writer. With the exception of maybe Steven King and a couple of others, no one knows us from Adam." Charlie said in his own defense.

"Your New Year's sounds really nice to me. If things had turned out differently, that's probably about what Dee and I would be doing. We were never party people. Our evenings consisted of me working on my books or my math and she'd read or play the piano, real exciting New Yorkers."Charlie chuckled.

"When we thought we couldn't have kids, Mike used to swear we were going to be one of those couples pushing a dog around town in a stroller," Charlie cut his eyes towards his brother. "Don't worry about them by the way. They're full of it sometimes. They wouldn't do anything to you, Dad or your family. In fact, they would kick anyone's ass who tried to hurt any of you."

Don looked down for a second. "Charlie, I'm glad you have them in your life. I'm glad you haven't been alone," he said softly.

Silence fell between the brothers then glancing at the antique carriage clock on the mantle, Don yawned, "I hate to say it, but I'm beat. I've got to get some sleep," he stood up.

"Yeah, me to. It's been a far more chaotic New Year's than I planned," Charlie yawned and smiled at his brother, "Goodnight, Don."

"Goodnight, Charlie," Don said and turned to head to his room.

…

Don Eppes woke around four AM confused for a second as to where he was and with a severe case of cottonmouth. He rubbed his tired eyes, crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He stopped when he reached the living room noticing it was dark except for the dim glow from the fireplace. He wondered for a second if Charlie had forgotten to turn off the gas before he retired but then he saw the little figure curled up on the couch, head resting on a pillow he had brought from the office, arm thrown over dark curls. Don noticed Charlie hadn't bothered to get undressed, that he had simply kicked off his shoes and lay down.

Don took a step closer and saw the blanket he had wrapped around his brother earlier in a pile on the floor. He quietly walked over, kneeled, picked it up and tucked it around the small, sleeping form. Just for a moment Don flashed on a very young Charlie curled up in a sleeping bag beside him in a 'tent' he had constructed in his room during another rough time in their lives.

Charlie started awake and lifted his head, "Mike?" he asked drowsily.

"Sorry, it's just me," Don said softly, pulling the blanket over Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie took a deep breath and relaxed, "You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Don said patting his shoulder.

"Donnie," Charlie said, "I'm glad you got stranded here," yawning he closed his eyes.

"I am to, buddy, I am to," Don said then he quietly got his water and went back to bed.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Eleven

On the first day of the New Year Don Eppes slept late. Even after he woke he lay huddled under the covers for a while basking in the chance to doze without having to hop up and prepare bowls of Cheerio's with sliced bananas and pour glasses of apple juice. Over the last few years he and his wife had become very practiced in the balancing act all working parents know so well; fielding early morning calls from the office while tying the laces of little sneakers, intervening in squabbles between siblings and brushing little girls long, dark tresses. With four small children to get off to daycare, school or preschool, the simple luxury of sleeping late was a rare gift indeed.

The one thing, perhaps the _only_ thing that could have tempted him from the warmth of his cozy nest was the enticing smell of freshly brewed coffee. The elder Eppes brother sat up, yawned, stretched, and ran his hands through his messy hair. Finally— halfheartedly —he crawled out of bed, brushed his teeth, took a quick shower, and ran a razor over his stubble. He put on clean clothes, then, deciding he was at least somewhat presentable, he made his way to the kitchen.

"Good morning," Charlie said looking up from the bowl in which he was beating batter with a wire whisk. "Coffee's ready and there's juice in the fridge. The glasses are in the first cabinet so just help yourself."

Don poured himself a cup and gratefully took a sip of the steaming, rich-bodied French roast. "Man that hits the spot! This is the second time you've saved my life in as many days," he said with a grin. He reached for a glass and opened the fridge to get some juice. "Are you actually making waffles?" He asked amazed as he watched Charlie pour the batter into the hot waffle iron and close the lid.

"Waffles and scrambled eggs," Charlie answered as he cracked eggs into a skillet and swirled them around with a spatula.

"I seem to recall that you don't like waffles or pancakes." Don said taking a sip of his juice.

"I don't but you do," Charlie smiled. "Mike and the guys like the things so I keep a box of mix in the house for them." He nodded towards the pantry, "Could you get the syrup out and set it on the table? Also, there's a stick of butter in the fridge — thanks."

"Sure, I'm glad to help," Don said and quickly made himself useful setting two places while Charlie finished preparing breakfast.

After a few minutes, the younger Eppes man placed a waffle on a plate and some scrambled eggs on a smaller one. He handed those to Don. On his own, he put some eggs and a slice of wheat toast. Each man got a cup of coffee then settled down to eat.

Don spread butter then poured syrup his over his hot, crispy waffle and took a bite, "This is great," he said. "And what did you do to the eggs? They're fantastic."

"Mike gets the credit for that. He adds a pinch of cinnamon, and vanilla to the waffle batter and just a touch of basil and nutmeg to the eggs. I just followed his recipe," Charlie said spreading butter on his bread. "I normally just have toast and coffee but, since I have a guest, I decided to splurge."

Silence fell between them for a few minutes, "So — Don, how are the kids?" He asked after an awkward silence, trying to make conversation and not sure just what to say to his brother.

"They're doing well. Amy and Amanda are taking ballet and they love it. David is still too little for sports or activities but he goes to daycare and he's pretty good with crayons, especially on the walls if we aren't watching." Don chuckled.

"And Justin?" Charlie asked.

Don sighed and wrinkled his brow, "We're kind of worried about Justin," he said softly.

"Really? Why?" Charlie asked suddenly concerned for his nephew. "He's not sick or anything is he?"

"No, nothing like that!" Don assured him. "It's just that the others are all so out-going and he's so… quiet. He can sit for hours and read or study his math or scribble in his notebook," Don leaned back in his chair. "The school tested him then put him in special classes for gifted students. He also has a tutor that comes to house … but," he looked away for a second, "Charlie… I'm not sure we're doing the right thing."

"Dad said that you wanted to give your son every opportunity to develop his gifts. It sounds to me like you're on the right track," A relieved Charlie said taking a sip of his coffee.

Don looked at his brother. "I used to watch you when you were little. You were always so … serious. It was as if you didn't know how to just have fun. Everything had to be about math, science and logic with you," he said. "I know our parents did the best they could trying to raise a prodigy and they took the advice of some of the foremost experts in the world. Maybe that advice wasn't always the best. Sometimes you were so stressed, Charlie, so over scheduled." Don paused for a second.

"It was like you skipped childhood and went straight from four years old to twenty overnight. At eight you could carry on a conversation like an adult. You had no friends your own age and no one you just hung out with, not even when you were a teenager. You appeared to be so … lonely, this solitary little kid sitting in his room with a black board and a pile of books. And sometimes you seemed so far away, like you lived in another world, like you lived …"

"In CharlieLand," the mathematician interrupted. "I overheard you and Dad saying that and laughing on more than one occasion," Charlie said his dark eyes cast down a little. "You aren't wrong, Don, not completely; I used to wish that I could be more like you — more like all the other kids, but I wasn't and, yes, I did reside in my own world much of the time — I still do, in fact."

"What goes on in my head and has ever since I can remember," he shrugged. "It's hard to explain. I used to try with Dad but, he didn't get it, and you just didn't seem interested. Mom got me but the both of you thought I was totally self-involved — narcissistic even. I stopped trying to explain myself to either of you long ago." He lifted his eyes and met his brother's worried gaze.

"Charlie, please try to help me understand," Don said all but pleading. "I really want — no, I _need_ to know, I _need _to understand."

The mathematician looked at his older brother and saw concern written all over his face, concern for his little brother — yes — but primarily concern for his own child. Charlie knew what he had to say might not be any comfort for Don. In fact, it might disturb him even more but he decided to try one last time, not for his own sake but for Justin's — and for Don's.

He took a deep breath, "It's like there's a voice in my head that is me, but at the same time, is not me," he said softly. "It's always there, even when I'm sleeping. It's not something I can control or turn off. I think that's what Dad and you never understood. You both think I should be able to … power down like shutting off a computer and just be normal. It doesn't work that way. It's not a matter of choice. I will never — _just be normal_."

Don bit his lip and looked at his brother over his coffee mug, "Charlie," he swallowed hard almost afraid to ask the next question. "I…I remember seeing that movie… Is it possible that you might… you know... lose it?" His voice faded away with those last words.

Charlie covered his face with his hands for a second. "Will someone _PLEASE _come up with a different example of the darker side of genius other than that highly inaccurate, exaggerated and over-used one?" Charlie slammed his hand down on the table and gave his head a little shake.

He held up his arms and gestured dismissively. "Hell, I don't know… maybe… maybe not! I'm not Psychic Chuck, you know! Look, the only answer I can give you is that if I ever — strip my gears —, I'm hoping for a Looney Toons kind of insanity with coyotes trying to drop anvils on roadrunner's heads, and a cross-dressing rabbits singing Wagner! Or perhaps a Roger Rabbit sort of thing, you know — a fun kind of crazy."

Don looked taken aback for a second then he leaned his head back, rubbed his face and chuckled, "God, little brother, you are one for the books!"

Charlie laughed but he could see that his brother looked a little alarmed that he had not totally dismissed the possibility that he could someday make a permanent move to CharlieLand. To the genius, that was just a fact that he had come to terms with years ago but his family and friends were not nearly so cavalier about the prospect.

"Don, you don't know that Justin is as quirky as his uncle! In all likelihood, he isn't but…" he turned a steady gaze on his brother. "Have you ever just sat down and talked with your son? Have you ever asked him what he's scribbling in those notebooks? It might surprise you!"

"I'm not sure I…"

Charlie leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the table, "When I was a kid, I used to write these stories about a genius mathematician from outer space coming to save the world from a mad scientist who subscribed to Leibniz as the creator of calculus instead of Newton. I created this whole world where no one was made fun of for being different and everyone saw the logic and beauty in math as the solution for almost every problem," he looked down for a second. "You know — until now — I've never told that to anyone else except Mom," he said sounding astounded that he had revealed one of his childhood secrets to his brother.

"Charlie," Don said anxiously. "I just want my little boy to be happy. You never seemed … happy".

"You know, big bro, what you _see _on the surface is not always all there _is_. I was happy — in my own weird way, "Charlie said, "and when I wasn't — well, '_what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'_, as the wise man once said. Over the years, I've learned to deal with, well, being me. I've learned to cherish solitude and appreciate the gift of being very still and observing. I've become exceedingly, ahhh — dexterous — in _any_ kind of situation and I can adapt very quickly to the shifting sands around me. These are skills that can serve you well in difficult times — trust me on that."

"I understand what you're trying to say but… I worry about my boy!"

"Of course you do, you're his Dad and that's your job!" Charlie touched Don's hand. "Kids are why you have the gray hairs and I don't," he said with a smirk then he got serious.

Charlie felt apprehension touch his heart. Through long years of experience in dealing with the man, he knew that Don could be very touchy where his personal life was concerned. In the last hours, they had come a long way in repairing their broken relationship but Charlie now felt that he was on thin ice and the wrong words would send him plunging into the freezing water beneath. Don would get _that_ look in his eyes, the door that was beginning to open between them would slam shut, and he would probably never see his brother again.

He thought of his complicated relationship with his own father throughout the years and the secret he was about to reveal, a secret so painful that he had never told anyone — not even his mother. He knew it was going to be difficult saying the words aloud when he could barely admit the truth to himself, but he was going to give it his best shot.

"Don," he said softly, "you and Justin… you can be…perhaps you should kind of — tread lightly there," Charlie said holding Don's gaze with his.

Charlie saw his brother's eyes turn wary and he knew he was in danger of undoing everything they had accomplished. Wanting more than anything to have Don back in his life he almost backed off and left it at that but he knew he was in a unique position. He knew better than anyone where the father/gifted son pitfalls lay and if he could give his brother a roadmap to avoid at least most of them well, he had to try so — reluctantly and with no small amount of trepidation — he plunged ahead.

"When I was a kid and sometimes — to this very day, I always felt that our father," he let out a quick breath finding the words much harder to say than he expected, "Don, sometimes I think that Dad … never really liked me very much." He held up his hand before his shocked brother could protest. "I know Dad _loves _me, he just doesn't _like _me. They're not the same thing, big brother."

"I'm not _you_, Don. I never quite got the knack of being a 'guy'. If Alan Eppes wasn't my father, I doubt he'd have three words to say to me. He didn't, in fact, for years!" Charlie held up his hand again before Don could jump in. "Here's an example of what I mean, do you know what he said when Amita broke our engagement?"

Don slowly shook his head.

"He told me I needed to go to her and ask her what _**I**_did wrong." Charlie bit the inside of his cheek, "then he said that maybe if I wasn't the way I am — that maybe if I … if I was more like," he gestured towards Don, "_you_, then she wouldn't have left."

Don looked completely stunned, "Charlie, Dad never wanted you to be anyone other than yourself. He never meant that you should try to be me!"

"I think he would have preferred it," Charlie said. "I think he would like me a lot better if I was more of a … guy."

"Charlie, you are his pride and joy!" Don said insistently. "If it seemed like he wanted you to be more like …"

"… him, he wanted me to be more like him…and you," Charlie cut his brother off. "Look," Charlie said, "I've probably expressed myself badly here. I'm only trying to let you see how things _appeared_ to me. All I'm saying is to try and remember that if your kids choose a different path than yours, that does not mean that their lives are any less happy or fulfilled. Just enjoy each of them for who they _are_. Maybe Justin's idea of fun _is _science and math. Maybe he _prefers _museums to baseball games — or maybe not. He's still little and only time will tell who he is going to be or the direction his life is going to take, and Don, the truth is, who they become as adults, well — whether you like it or not, Mr. over-protective FBI control freak — is going to be up to _them_, not you. All _you_ can do is give them the life skills they'll need to succeed, encourage them and most of all … love them and enjoy the moment. All too soon, they are going to be teenagers and consider you one big embarrassment! " He smiled."Just tread a little lightly, Don, that's all, and give a geek a break! Life is hard out there for us. Home and family should be a haven from all of that."

Charlie lifted his eyebrows, "Damn, listen to me preaching the gospel according to Dr. Charles Eppes! I'm going to shut up now before I morph into Donovan shoot up about eight inches, gain around ninety pound of pure muscle and get an inexplicable desire to shave off all my hair except for one short strip down the middle."

He stood up and started to gather the dishes. Don started to help him but Charlie shook his head, "No, you sit and enjoy your coffee. I've got this, besides," he stepped around his brother opened the sideboard and pulled out a package and handed it to Don. "I meant to send this with the Christmas gifts but couldn't get it done in time. I think your kids will get a kick out it."

Don took the package and smiled, "Newton, Leibniz and space mathematicians?" He asked gently, "And you were how old when you wrote that?"

"Nine I think," Charlie said as he gathered the last of the dishes. "What can I say? I was a weird kid," he smiled. "And Don," he said pausing for a moment before he headed to clean up the kitchen, "don't worry, you have a resource that Dad and Mom didn't have."

Don looked questioning,

"A crazy genius kid brother," Charlie said as he left.

Don laughed and shook his head. He opened the package, took a little breath, and mouthed the word, '_Damn!_' Inside were four graphic novels each one staring one of his kids, each tailored to that individual child. There were dinosaurs and robots, fairy princesses who danced along the battlement of a great castle and ball players who were in reality, super heroes. "My God, buddy, you would have been an amazing father!" he whispered.

"Charlie," Don asked when his brother rejoined him bringing with him a fresh pot of coffee. "Where did you get these?"

"I have a friend who makes personalized books. I did the story-lines and Will did the illustrations." Charlie said as he poured coffee for both himself and Don then sat down.

"These are fantastic. The kids are going to go wild. I have no idea how to thank you," Don said, "for everything, little brother."

Charlie shrugged. "So," he asked, "not to change the subject but what did you and GySgt Donovan discuss last night?" He asked.

Don carefully sat the books down, "He …"

"I guess he said a lot of things he should have kept his mouth shut about," Charlie said. He picked up his coffee mug and took a sip, "So did he tell you that I'm the big bad wolf and that I have razor sharp teeth, '_the better to eat you with, my dear'_?" Charlie said in a convincing wolfish snarl.

"Yeah, that was pretty much the gist of it," Don said.

"Don't worry Don, I'm really very tame," he added glancing at his watch. He stood and walked towards his office. "Unless, of course, you piss me off," he said and glanced over his shoulder with a wicked lift of one eyebrow then turning so his brother couldn't see his face, he grinned.

The mathematician took a few minutes to pop off an email instructing the maintenance man who cared for the Craftsman to drop by on the second and check the roof for loose shingles. He then checked his email and, seeing nothing that required his immediate attention, he shuffled through a few files making sure he had everything he needed for a conversation he intended to have with his brother later, he headed back towards the living room. He found Don standing by the French doors gazing out and looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Charlie," Don said uneasily, "the airlines called. They hope to get the airport open later this afternoon but … they say they can't get me on a flight out until the third."

The mathematician grabbed a couple of coats out of the closet and handed one to his brother. "That's okay. Stay as long as you want," he said putting on his own. "Come on, I can use some air. Let's take a walk in the park."

"Sounds great," Don smiled and slipped into the warm fleece-lined bomber jacket. "Is this Donovan's because it sure as hell isn't yours?" Don asked pushing back the long sleeves.

"I think it's Will's. Just be glad it isn't Gus's! We could both fit into it at the same time if it was. At any rate, it's warmer than your coat." Charlie smiled and slid on gloves and a black knit watch hat and handed the same to his brother.

"You'd better bundle up! The wind has died down but it's still cold," Charlie said as they left the apartment. "Hey, that was a pretty scary snarl, wasn't it?" He added as they reached the elevators. "You should hear me howl at the moon. Gus says I'm part werewolf."

Don smiled and shook his head in amusement, "Yeah I have to admit, you had me going," he said as he pulled on the hat and gloves against the freezing conditions he knew awaited him. "Of course the first thing in the morning before you shave and comb your hair, you do kind of look like a freaking werewolf," he said and laughed when his brother punched him in the arm.

…..

The warm-blooded Californian hadn't been so sure about taking a walk in Central Park on a winter's day, but in the end he was glad he did. The park wasn't as crowded as he expected. Charlie explained it was a holiday and that many people were still in bed or nursing hangovers and he seemed to be taking great pleasure in playing tour guide and showing his older brother some of the places of interest along the way and telling him some of the legends only New Yorkers knew.

They stopped for a while, sat on a bench by the lake, and reminisced about things that happened in the neighborhood when they were young. They didn't remember the details of everything exactly the same way but they both agreed that the Craftsman and their street had been a great place to in which to grow up. Finally, having had enough of the cold, they made their back to the apartment.

In the early afternoon, Charlie made a plate of sandwiches and Don opened a couple of beers. They took them to the entertainment room so Don could, as promised, watch all the football he wanted.

"I thought your two buddies broke this thing?" Don asked as Charlie showed him how to operate the system.

"That was just a distraction to keep me occupied while Mike played big tough merc," Charlie said. "The system works fine," he handed his brother the remote. "Here you go. Watch whatever you like."

Don settled down in a comfortable leather recliner to enjoy a thick, roast beef sandwich and a frosty beer. He surfed through the channels until he found a game he wanted to watch. Charlie kicked back on the couch, raised the footrest, and with his laptop resting on his legs and his sandwich and beer on the table beside him, he settled in.

Occasionally Don would make some comment on the game and Charlie would mumble a response, never looking up from the computer screen. Towards half time, he got up to replenish the beer supply and bring some snacks.

Several times during the afternoon, Don glanced back to see his brother thumbing through some papers and checking his computer. He flashed on a multitude of such events throughout the years and he smiled. It was a surprisingly comfortable feeling of home, one he sorely missed. Suddenly he realized how much he wanted his brother back in his daily life and he wondered if he ever would be again.

Don stood. The game had been as exciting as predicted and had gone into overtime but now it was over. His team hadn't won but it was still a great ride. He decided to take advantage of the downtime before the start of the next game to stretch his legs and grab a bathroom break.

When he returned, Charlie glanced at him and closed the laptop, sitting it aside.

"Don," he asked, "have you got a minute?"

"Sure buddy," the agent plopped down next to his brother on the couch, "they'll show the post-game show, then a bunch of commercials then the pregame show so I've got at least thirty minutes. This next one is supposed to be really good. Why don't you put this thing away and watch?" He gestured at the laptop.

Charlie only looked at him, "Don, according to you and Dad, ALL the games are really exceptional, a statistical impossibility, by the way. But football is not what I wanted to discuss … I just don't want you to get, you know — like you get."

"Charlie, after all we've been through in the last day and a half, I promise you, I won't get whatever the hell you just said," Don said gently.

"Very well then, just remember you said that," Charlie took a deep breath. "Here, look these over."

He handed Don some of the papers resting in his lap. Don glanced at them quickly at first then he looked at his brother and perused them again far more slowly. "What is this?" He asked.

"Don, I've set up a trust in each of your kids names. I'd like to take care of their college," Charlie said then went on quickly, "I'm not saying you and Robin can't do it, please don't think that, I know that you can but if I take that much off your plate then you two can concentrate on other things."

"Charlie, do you have any idea how much this is going to cost?" Don gasped.

"I think I do," the mathematician said with a small smile. "Look, Don, I've paid for a lot of kid's education. My foundations have built schools in Africa and China. The Pack and I have personally built some of them with our own hands. We have set up after school reading, math and science programs in inner cities and rural areas where the schools are not well funded. The subject of education is very important to me as you might imagine." He touched his brother's shoulder, "We help thousands of strangers so why wouldn't I help my own nieces and nephews?"

Don sat there stunned for a few minutes then he stood and walked across the room. He stopped and looked back. "His generosity even towards those who have harmed him," he whispered parroting Donovan's words. "It was you! It was you all along!"

"I'm not sure I…"

"When Robin needed help when she was pregnant with David, there was no hardship fund from the Bureau. No one had ever heard of such a thing. That was you — you paid the for the private duty nurses to take care of her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You paid for the nannies and it was you who subsidized the cost of the kids' private school, wasn't it? There was no special scholarship for the children of law enforcement and the military!"

"Whoa, yes there is — now. Yours are not the only kids I've helped, you know!" Charlie insisted. "Besides, aren't your kids doing well there? Dad uses the word thriving! I know Justin was having a hard time in his old school, isn't he happier now and isn't he safer? Aren't they all?"

Don walked back to the couch and sat down, "And is it one of your 'foundations' that created and finances the transportation program so Dad and his friends can get to their book club or volunteer work when they shouldn't be driving at night?"

Charlie was starting to panic. He looked for all the world like the kid caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar as he tried to explain away his actions. "Don, there are programs to help get older people to the doctors or to the grocery but nothing to help with the luxuries. Plus their work at the homeless shelter or the nursing homes helps others so in reality, we're just sort of …" his voice trailed off.

"Why Charlie, after the horrendous way we treated you, why would you do all of this?" Don asked dumbfounded.

Charlie took a deep breath. "When I heard that Robin's pregnancy was so difficult and that she required specialized care that insurance wouldn't cover … I … I just didn't think you and your family should lose everything you worked so hard for because of medical bills. You shouldn't have to mortgage your house or wipe out your savings!" He looked away for a second.

"But I was afraid if I offered to help you wouldn't accept. You wanted nothing to do with me and … I just didn't want your children to have to grow up without their mom or for you to lose your wife and child. Don — I didn't want you to suffer like I did when Dee … so I contacted the Director. He owed me a favor and he helped me to pull the whole thing off." Charlie looked at his bother. "Besides — I was keeping a promise I once made to you."

"Charlie, I don't understand, what promise?" Don could barely speak.

"Do you remember that time when we were kids and you got grounded for a month because you were really messing up in school?"

"Yeah, buddy, I do. I accidently injured you and later we made a tent out of blankets and pretended to camp out in my room." Don said.

"I promised you that one day I'd look after you like you always looked after me. I can't protect you from the dangers of your job so I tried to help you in other ways." Charlie cringed and nervously wrung his hands. "I just never intended for you to find out, that's all," he whispered.

Don could hear the blood singing in his ears as he silently watched this man whom he had so unjustly wronged, "And just how long have you been this little curly haired — guardian angel — hovering in the background of our lives?" he demanded.

Charlie pursed his suddenly dry lips. "A while," was his only answer.

Charlie closed his eyes for a second. His mind flashed back to that night so many years before, the night Huffer Al accosted him in the parking garage of FBI headquarters to warn him that evil was prowling and that Lucifer himself was hunting for souls. He had rushed, home frightened and shaken after that eerie encounter and found his enemy in his bedroom — waiting.

He could still smell the slight scent of roses in the room and the stench of cigarettes on the bastard's breath and even all these years later, he could hear the bone-deep hatred in his voice as he delivered a warning from one who, at that time, still resided in the shadows — Azariah.

_"This game is by invitation only and the consequences for cheating are__—__ dire. One whisper about this to anyone and I will spill your precious father's guts on the kitchen floor and as a bonus, I will leave your brother's eyes in your refrigerator where they will stay nice and fresh along with Donovan's manhood. Their lives are in your hands so, not one word. Do you understand me?"_

Sitting on his couch in New York City a lifetime later with his older brother only a couple of feet away, Charlie shuddered as he again felt the sharp, cold knife-edge pressed against his skin and Hicks' Judas kiss on the top of his head.

_"You should have bashed my head in with that shovel while you had the chance, but you were weak, little fox, you were compassionate. That was a bad mistake, you foolish, foolish boy."_

Those chilling words had been an indictment of his lack of inner strength. The monster who, in the end, destroyed his life, had presented him with a verbal white feather — an accusation of cowardice. But Hicks had made a mistake on that night, a grave one. He had threatened the people Charlie loved and with that action, something inside the meek professor turned to flint. The transformation from sniveling little fox to big bad wolf had already begun.

Charlie had made a vow that night …a vow to his enemy.

_"Hicks, if I ever get the chance, compassion is not a mistake I'll make again."_

He had gotten his chance and that vow was now complete. _'The better to eat you with, my dear._

…

"I'm no angel, Don," he said in a halting voice, "I've seen and I've done … such terrible things."

A reeling Don Eppes gently rubbed his brother's shoulder and they sat saying nothing for a long time. "Charlie," he said finally breaking the tension with a small smile, "about this," he patted the folders, "you do remember that I have four children, don't you?"

Charlie laughed softly and nodded, "Yeah, I remember. I must admit that I was a bit — amazed," he said.

"So was I!" Don admitted. "We intended to have two kids; at least that was the plan! Having four was an accident."

Charlie's eyes opened wide. "An accident, Don? What did you do, sleep through health class like you slept through algebra?"

"Things just happen sometimes, Charlie," Don sighed, "things like twins."

"If you say so," Charlie said doubtfully then he frowned. "You aren't planning to have any more are you?" Charlie narrowed his eyes.

"No, I think we're done," Don said decisively.

"Good because five would just be kind of … ostentatious don't you think?" Charlie said cutting his eyes towards his brother, trying his best to look innocent.

"Jerk!" Don gently shoved Charlie and both men laughed. "Hey, I think the game is getting ready to start," he said nodding towards the television.

"Why don't I put my computer away like you suggested and we can watch together," Charlie said. "I can make some nachos and there's plenty of beer."

Don grinned, "Now that sounds like a good idea!"

…

Don Eppes woke curled up on the couch in the entertainment room where he had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of _'Shane'_ on TCM. He was feeling little groggy from beer and the over-indulgence in snack foods. The television was still on but his brother was nowhere to be seen. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and stood. He looked at the screen to see some pitchman trying to convince people to buy a special car wax that is guaranteed to make your old faded paint look like new. He frowned, grabbed the remote and turned off the system. He hated infomercials almost as much as he hated reality shows.

He gathered the empty beer bottles and dishes and took them to the kitchen. He looked at the clock on the stove and saw it was 3:22 AM. Glancing at the living room couch, he expected to see his brother sleeping there but was surprised to find it vacant.

"Charlie," he called walking down the hall. He peeked in the office thinking that perhaps his brother had fallen asleep in there. The light on the desk was on but the room was empty.

He made his way to the end of the hall to the French doors, slowly pushed them open and stepped inside. There he found Charlie sitting at the vanity with the white box from earlier. He was carefully putting the party hat and the noisemaker in the box along with a few other mementos.

"Charlie," he said. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the younger man said. "I just felt like maybe it's time to … you know, start to say goodbye."

"I understand. Look, if you want to be alone, I can …" Don started to leave.

"I'd like the company actually," Charlie looked at Don, his eyes so dark they looked black. "But if you're tired …"

"No, I'm not tired," Don pulled a chair up and sat beside his brother.

Charlie sighed and looked around, "I'm going to call Eric in a couple of days — you remember my driver?"

Don nodded.

"His wife, Margie, helped Dee out sometimes making appointments, and answering the phones. She always loved this vanity. I know it's a valuable antique but I think Dee would want her to have it." Charlie tenderly ran his hand over the surface. "And Emilio's youngest daughter is pregnant. She and her husband don't have a lot of money. They can use the baby furniture and the toys."

"That's good of you, Charlie, it really is," Don said gently.

He watched as Charlie stood and picked up the beaded dress and went to the walk-in closet and hung it up among a dozen others, "There's a shelter for battered woman Dee always supported. They can use the clothes. What the residents can't use the shelter can sell. It's just a matter of boxing things up. "

Don rose and stood beside him. "Buddy you don't have to do everything at one time. Go slowly and when you're ready, call me. I wasn't kidding when I told you I would come back and help you — if you want my help that is."

Charlie ran his hands over the dresses, "I may take you up on that offer," he said softly then backing out of the closet, he turned off the light and shut the door. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Time passed quickly for the brothers. They spent a lot of time catching up and talking about everything and nothing. Before they knew it, the visit was over and they were standing at the front door of the apartment, Don's suitcase at his feet.

"Charlie, it has been a pleasure," Don said. "I just don't know to thank you for all you've done."

"There's no need, big brother. That's what families are for. Besides, you've helped me, Don. You really have." Charlie said. "Hey, maybe you can bring the family for a visit sometime. I can usually get good tickets to a game for you and Dad. I have a neighbor that has a dance school. She was a ballerina with the New York City Ballet. Amy and Amanda would love her."

"There are more museums here then you can count and I know a couple of professors of mathematics at Columbia. I think Justin might enjoy meeting them. Then there's Rockefeller Center and Broadway and of course, all the stuff we only do when we are showing out-of -towners around. The City has something for everyone."

"Thank you, New York City Dept. of Tourism," Don laughed. "I'll keep it in mind."

Charlie nodded and answered his cell phone when it suddenly rang, "I guess Eric is down stairs," he said.

"Then I'd better go," Don picked up his bag and turned to open the door but he stopped with his hand on the doorknob and didn't move.

"Don, what is it?" Charlie asked.

Don turned, dropped his bag and looked at him, "Charlie," he said, "Charlie…"

The mathematician smiled and took his cell out of his pocket. He dialed, "Eric, drive around the block a couple of times, please. My brother will be down shortly."

"Charlie," Don said for a third time.

"Don…Don…" Charlie said with a chuckle. "You know I just got a flash of déjà vu. I think we've done this before."

The older Eppes brother reached out and took his younger brother's hands in his, "Charlie, on the fifteenth of February, Dad is going to be honored at a dinner for all of his years of service at the homeless shelter and the day after that, the girls have a ballet recital. I know that's not very exciting but…we would be very glad if you would come."

Charlie seemed a little stunned, "Dad had told me about the dinner and the recital. I was going to send the girls roses, fly in the week after, and take Dad to dinner. I didn't want to interfere since we weren't …close."

"Things have changed little brother. I want you to meet my children. I'd like for them to know their uncle as someone other than a face on a book jacket or a package from Paris in the mail… or some guy getting chased by TMZ." Don lifted his eyebrows.

"Oh God, you did see that!" Charlie turned bright red.

"Grainger has it on a DVD he recorded. He plays it at all his parties along with the llama attack," Don snickered.

"Damn Will and YouTube," Charlie hissed under his breath. "I don't know what it is with me and docile animals. I've photographed wolves, lions ‒ even tigers and nothing bad happened, but try to snap one picture of a cute little llama and the thing goes right for the jugular. I had a hoof shaped bruise on my ass for a month," he said shaking his head. "It was almost as bad as the freaking paparazzi."

Don laughed shaking his brother gently by the shoulder. "No, seriously buddy, Dad would love it if you spent a week or two at the Craftsman — the Eppes men together again. It would be … epic … to use Justin's current favorite word."

Charlie hesitated then he slowly nodded. "Maybe you're right. It might be nice to see home again. Sure, Don, I'd be glad to come. I look forward to it."

"Great, I'll hold you to your word," Don said.

"Big brother, you had better get out of here before you miss your plane!" Charlie said laughing.

Don nodded, grabbed his bag, pulled the door open and charged for the elevator. The last he saw of his brother before the doors slid shut was a small dark haired man waving at him from the dimly lit hallway.

For some reason he couldn't comprehend his eyes were stinging and not from sorrow — this time they were tears of joy — joy because soon Charlie, the younger brother whom he dearly loved, would at long last — come home.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Chapter Twelve

"The sea was angry and the waves crashed over the deck of the great ship threatening to pull it to the bottom where many a fine vessel already lay along with the bones of the brave men who sailed them. The handsome young Charles, King of all the Pirates ordered his men to come about as he cut the thick line with one swift sweep of his razor sharp cutlass. Grasping the wet, ragged line in one hand, he swung from the yardarm to the deck below. There, with cold steel and flintlock, he and his crew fought the final battle against the wicked Lord Prattledom and his men. For a while, it looked as if the good Pirate King would lose and all would fall to darkness. Prattledom, as you know, was as evil as the day is long. If he was victorious there would be no more … cheese sauce with your broccoli!"

"No!" little voices shouted.

"Or … waffles on Sunday for breakfast!"

"No!"

"Or math class!"

This time only Justin shouted "No Uncle Charlie! Brave Pirate King Charles has to win!"

"For hours the battle raged above deck and below! Finally when all seemed lost, the two beautiful princesses and the handsome prince whom, as you remember, wicked Prattledom had …"

Robin Eppes slowly approached her very preoccupied husband. "What's…?"

"Shhhhh," Don said slipping his arm around her waist, "Listen." He nodded towards the door.

"…kidnapped from their father's castle in the magical land of Glendale, freed themselves and finding weapons of their own, they joined the battle and soon, they dispatched the evil Lord Prattledom and his men to the churning sea where they sank from view, never to be seen again!"

Don and Robin softly laughed as they heard the high pitched squeal of their girls cheering and Justin's equally enthusiastic "Yes!" and they all clapped their hands in triumphant.

"That was a great story, Uncle Charlie! Tell us another one!" Amy shouted.

"Yes, tell us another story!" Amanda clapped grinning at her uncle.

Charlie shook his head. "Maybe next time I visit," he said.

But the girls were not ready to give up so easily. They turned on the charm that pretty little girls just seemed to be endowed with at birth — and they learned something new that night. They learned that, just like their mother, their uncle was immune to pretty little smiles and sweet little pouts. He spent far too many years teaching co-eds to fall for it and there was not a trick he didn't know. Feminine wiles were wasted on him; he simply wasn't susceptible.

"Uncle Charlie, did Daddy really teach you to make a tent like this?" Justin asked looking around the blanket Charlie had draped over the backs of chairs and the flashlight he was using as a campfire.

"Yes he did, when I was about ten. Your dad let me sleep in his room. We read comics and told each other stories," Charlie answered. "Your dad taught me a lot of neat things when I was little."

"Uncle Charlie, why haven't you visited before?" Amanda asked.

"Oh, I've been pretty busy," Charlie said hoping the kids didn't push the subject. Maybe someday they would understand but for now, they were too young to comprehend the complexities of Eppes family dynamics.

"Papa says that you've been everywhere in the world," Justin said.

"Well, maybe not everywhere, but I've been lots of places," Charlie answered then glancing at the partially opened door, he saw his brother lurking in the dark trying to stay out of sight.

A mischievous glint entered his dark eyes. "Hey," he said. "Maybe I do have time for one more really short story. This one is about two brothers, one handsome and brilliant and his older brother who happened to be a grumpy ogre who scowled and never studied his math. The town was having a formal ball and the grouchy old ogre had stolen the beautiful Princess Val from…"

"Charlie!" Don shouted as he stepped into the room with a look in his eyes the younger Eppes brother knew all too well.

"Oops, we've been busted by the feds," he stage-whispered to the kids. "And you know what they say about the FBI!"

"No, what?" Justin asked through the spread fingers of the hand covering his mouth.

"They have no sense of humor," Charlie answered.

All three children and one mathematician burst into laughter.

"I think that's enough for tonight!" Don motioned to his children and they jumped up and rushed from the improvised tent with their uncle following right behind.

"Uncle Charlie's funny, isn't he Daddy?" Amy said running to her father's waiting arms.

"Yeah, he's a real comedian," Don said smiling and shaking his head at his bother. "Hey, it's late and Mommy's ready to take you guys home," he hugged each of his children in turn. "Uncle Charlie is leaving tomorrow so I'm going to spend the night here, but I'll be home in time for dinner, okay?"

Three voices started to protest asking why they couldn't also spend the night with Papa and Uncle Charlie but Don was having none of it, "Mommy has to work tomorrow and you guys have school so no more arguments."

"Okay Daddy," the girls said in unison as each gave their father hugs and kisses then ran to join their mother and brother in the hall.

Don stood for a moment and looked at Charlie with a knowing look on his face.

"What?" Charlie asked through wary eyes. He remembered that look from years past and it never bode well for him.

"It seems little brother, that you have caused quite a stir among the single and not so single moms. Robin told me that the girl's ballet teacher, Miss Lancing, called supposedly to discuss the girls staring in a show she is planning for May. Instead she very subtly maneuvered the conversation around to you and whether or not you are married or if you have a girlfriend." Don smirked at his brother's obvious discomfort.

"You see, a few of the ladies meet every Tuesday afternoon to discuss, oh I don't know, the world monetary crisis or Johnny Depp, over a pitcher or two of Margarita's. During their latest confab, your name came up several times. In fact after that second pitcher of drinks, they began referring to you as," Don was obviously enjoying himself far too much. Charlie braced for what was coming. "Heavenly Heat Hot Sauce." Don burst out laughing gently punching his brother's arm, "and they prefer you in jeans rather than slacks, by the way."

Charlie groaned rubbing his eyes. "I think in this case, I'm categorically, without a doubt attached. I have a crazy, jealous girlfriend with a bad temper."

"Maybe you should rethink that, little brother. A couple of those moms are pretty…"

"Are pretty what?" Robin asked leaning over his shoulder.

"I was just going to say they are pretty ahh pretty good cooks?" Don stammered as his wife scowled.

"Hummm that had better be what you meant, bub!" She warned. "And watch what you say, Daddy. Little ears hear everything and repeat it at the worst possible time," she whispered looking down into three pairs of dark eyes. She warmly kissed her brother in-law on the cheek, "Charlie, it was so good to see you again. Kids, say goodbye to your uncle. We need to get home. It's way past your bedtime!"

Charlie gave each of his nieces and his nephew a hug and a kiss promising to visit again as soon as he could.

"Your dad is putting David in the car. He fell asleep a couple of hours ago. Help me with the others. It's getting late and they need their rest." Robin said gathering Amy into her arms. "And maybe later we can discuss which of the moms are pretty … good cooks."

"Daddy," Amanda asked snuggling against her father, "why would Angelia's mommy call Uncle Charlie Hot Sauce? That's a silly nickname," she rested her head on her adoring father's shoulder.

Don blushed and looked at his wife uncomfortably, "Yes it is kids, very silly. Just forget I said it and let's not repeat that to anyone else," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Robin shot her husband an, 'I told you so,' look.

Don heaved a heavy sigh resigned to the fact that he was going to hear about his slip of the tongue for a long time to come. "I'll help Robin get the kids in the car. Why don't you run downstairs and get a glass of wine. I won't be long." He glanced at Charlie, lifted his eyebrows and grabbed the pirate hat that had been part of a long ago Halloween costume from his younger brother's head. "You are a bad influence on my kids, Pirate King Charles!" He said jokingly and shoved the hat into Charlie's chest.

Charlie watched his older brother walk down the hall towards the stairs. Amanda grinned at him over her father's shoulder and wiggled her little fingers. Justin, who was holding on to his dad's hand turned and waved, "We love you, Uncle Charlie," he said. "Come back soon."

"I love you also, kids," Charlie said and waved goodbye. The mathematician watched as Don and his family reached the end of the hall and disappeared down the stairs.

He turned and went back into the room that had been his for so much of his life. For a few minutes, he stood and looked around. Once upon a time, the room had been a sanctuary from a harsh and judgmental world that had little tolerance for the different or the weird.

Within its four walls, he had studied the works of famous mathematicians both past and present. Mӧbius, Listing, Bolyai, Lobachevsky, Erdӧs, and Einstein — he poured over their lives and absorbed their work in the same way that Don and his friends obsessed over the stats of an athlete or the music of a rock star. Alone in his room, his head bent over his books and his computer, he had fallen in love with the logic and the elegance that is mathematics. It was a passion — no an obsession — that would last all of his life.

For a fleeting moment, Charlie caught a glimpse of that skinny little boy with shaggy, unkempt hair as he lay on his bed long after he should have been asleep. He would spend hours staring up at the ceiling dreaming of what his life was going to be like. He had so many plans back then, so many dreams. Few if any of those plans worked out the way he intended and those old dreams had washed away with the capricious twists and turns of fate. Now this room, _his refuge_, belonged to the boys when they spent the night with their beloved Papa and he found himself banished to the guest room.

Charlie understood perfectly well_, _why his old room now belonged to Don's sons. After all, he hadn't lived in it in years and very probably, he would never occupy it again. Rationally he couldn't expect his father to put two young boys in a room that was all the way down the hall past the solarium and near the stairs while this one, which was right next door to Don's, sat vacant. To do so would not have been safe, responsible, or even in the remotest sense of the word, logical

Yes, the adult part of Charlie completely understood the reasoning behind his eviction but another less than reasonable part of him felt — well — displaced. And he felt more than a little saddened as he realized that all that had made this room his sanctuary for so much of his life was gone. It was as if it had never been his at all.

The same was true for the rest of the house. Nothing felt right. The house even smelled different. At first Charlie had wandered aimlessly, going from room to room trying to pinpoint exactly what was missing, why he felt so out-of-sync with everyone and everything. He felt like a musician that's playing Mozart while the rest of the orchestra is playing Brahms and no matter how hard he tries to fit in, he is still playing Mozart.

Finally, after a week and a half, he abandoned his futile quest. There was nothing to pinpoint. It was just as Mike had prophetically foretold so long ago — he was now merely a guest here, a stranger passing through on his way to some other place. It hurt like hell but there was no denying the truth — this house was no longer his home.

Charlie sighed and reached to turn off the light when his astute eyes spotted something by the toy box just above the baseboard. He knelt and looked closely. There barely discernable to anyone who didn't know that it was there was an equation, Schrödinger's time dependent equation, to be exact, a faint whisper of the boy who once called this room his own. He noticed another little hand had added Schrödinger's time independent equation. _'And so it continues_,' he thought. Charlie smiled and stood. Hitting the light switch as he went, he quietly left the room.

…

Seeing old friends and family had been awkward at first and had not always gone smoothly. When they arrived at the house from the airport, his father led him to the guest room so he could freshen up and unpack. The older man seemed uncomfortable as he again explained about the boys taking over his old room but Charlie assured him that he understood and that of course it was all right. The guest room was fine. The guest room was perfect.

That same night at the awards dinner for his father, Charlie had met his nieces and nephews for the first time. They were shy and standoffish in the way that young children can be with strangers. He tried to make conversation with them, but it hadn't gone as well as he had hoped. Don even made a remark that he had never seen his brood so quiet.

Sitting next to his father, Charlie had been aware of the almost frightened way the kids kept eyeing him. _'Perfect,'_ he thought, _'my brother's kids hate me. This is going to be a looong freaking two weeks.' _

Afterwards, the Eppes Clan, a couple of Alan's oldest friends and David Sinclair went back to the house to continue the celebration. The adults gathered in the dining room around the table as they had for as long as Charlie could remember. The girls and Justin ran upstairs to play and David was with the nanny. He was still too little and sure to get fussy with the long evening ahead.

Later that night, feeling a little claustrophobic and tired, Charlie slipped away from the party to go to his room and catch his breath. He could hear the strains of _The Sugar Plum Fairy _and girlish giggles from the room down the hall. It was then he noticed the faint glow of light from the solarium and he took a moment to check it out.

Charlie stood in the shadows and watched the small boy for a couple of minutes. He remembered spending many an evening sitting on that same sofa, head bowed over a notebook, studying. It had never been a chore to him; it had always been a pleasurable experience, losing himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. He had started to turn and walk away when the dark-haired little boy looked up and spotted him.

"Hi, Uncle Charlie," he said in a soft almost inaudible voice.

"Hi, Justin," Charlie said gently. "Can I sit down?"

The boy nodded moved over a little.

"You seem very busy. Are you working on some math problems?" Charlie asked.

"I was but I kinda finished my work," Justin seemed a little nervous talking with his uncle.

"Oh, okay," Charlie searched his mind for something else to say. "You know I used to work in here a lot. It's a great place to think. I'd get a cup of tea and spend hours writing in my notebooks or on my blackboard."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes when I try to work in my room my sisters make too much noise or David cries," he sighed. "My sisters are kind of annoying and they tease me a lot."

"Yeah, Don used to tease me sometimes. But then, I was the little brother so I guess I aggravated him," Charlie smiled. "Your sisters might tease you but I'll bet they get mad at anyone who makes fun of their big brother."

Justin nodded and looked at his notebook. "Amy pushed Alicia Little down for calling me a geeky robot."

Charlie grinned, "I used to get called that a lot," he said. "So, what are you working on?"

His young nephew blushed, "It's just a story but it's not very good," he said timidly.

"Can I see it? I know a thing or two about writing," Charlie asked gently.

Justin reluctantly handed the notebook to his uncle who read the scribbled pages and smiling he nodded, "This is very good, Justin. You should keep writing."

"Really?" Now his dark eyes lit up.

"Yeah, really," Charlie said then smiled as he noticed just how much Justin looked like Don. He had the same spiky hair the FBI agent once sported and when he smiled, his nose crinkled just like his dad's. The girls on the other hand took after their mother. They were destined to be true beauties one day. Charlie did not envy Don at all in that aspect and he felt a little pity for the young men who would someday arrive at the door to pick them up for a date. He wasn't sure who they should fear most, Don or Robin. He handed the notebook back to his nephew. "Have you shown this story to your dad?" He asked.

"No, I'm not sure he'll like it," Justin shrugged.

"Show it to him. I promise you he will love it." Charlie smiled

Justin looked at his uncle through huge brown eyes, "Uncle Charlie, why does Daddy and Papa call you Secret Squirrel? Is that your nickname?"

Charlie had almost burst out laughing at that one. He was sure Justin was not supposed to have overheard that much less repeat it. "No, it is not!" He said, "I happen to be Rocky J. Squirrel, you know from _Rocky and Bullwinkle_."

Justin looked blank.

"You've never heard of Rocky and Bullwinkle?" Charlie asked amazed. "We'll have to take care of that! Wait right here," he ran to his room and grabbed his laptop then he rejoined his nephew on the couch and soon both were enjoying the wacky goings on in Frostbite Falls.

"That was funny. Was that a cartoon from when you were little?" Justine asked.

"No, that was more from when your Papa was younger. It was a satire on the Cold War and …" Charlie started to say but the confused look in Justin's eyes stopped him. Closing the laptop he asked, "So, how is math class coming?"

"Fine, I like it but I am kind of confused about exponential expressions."

"Maybe I can help. I used to be a teacher," Charlie said.

"Papa and Daddy said not to bother you about…" Justin shook his head.

"Hey, math is never a bother!" Charlie said with a wave of his hand, "Come on, show me."

…

"Look familiar?" Alan asked with a twinkle in his eyes as he and his eldest watched their respective sons, heads bent over a notebook and a computer totally engrossed in their treasured numbers.

"Yes, God help us all," Don said with a heave of his breath. "Come on Dad, if there's math involved, we've lost them both for a while," he smiled and they headed back down stairs.

The girls however had other plans. Suddenly realizing they were being left out of something, they invaded the solarium extracting a cry of protest from their older brother.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Charlie quickly intervened before a squabble could break out. "Why don't we go to the boy's room? We can make a tent out of some blankets and maybe tell stories."

The kids all thought that was a great idea, epic, as Justin so enthusiastically put it. After an argument or two over the best way to arrange the chairs, the tent had not taken long at all to complete. After they all crawled in, Charlie suggested that Justin tell the first story but the boy had vehemently shaken his head no. In fact, no one wanted to begin so the burden of storyteller was obviously falling on Charlie since the whole thing was his idea.

"D.M., again," Charlie whispered to himself. For a few minutes, he was at a complete loss as he racked his brain trying to think of a story appropriate for small children, "How about," he haltingly said. "The tale of…ahhh the Pirate King,"

"Yes, we like pirates!" Justin nodded.

"… and the evil Lord Prattldom and the ….ahhh Siege of the magical land of …. Glendale?"

"Will there be princesses?" The girls asked excitedly.

"Where there are pirate kings there are always princesses," Charlie said, "and mermaids and knights and dragons and evil wizards." Slowly, uncertainly at first, he began to weave his tale. Every night he would add a new chapter to the story building on the suspense and bringing it to its rousing conclusion on his last night in town.

But that was not to be the end of the chronicles of the Pirate King, Lord Justin, the beautiful princesses and when he was a little older, Sir David the Bold. The tale was to become a family tradition. Every time he came for a visit, Charlie would add another chapter to their ongoing adventures. In the end, it no longer mattered and Charlie didn't even remember, that the motivating force behind the Glendale Saga was originally a nervous uncle trying to find a way to break the ice with his brother's reticent children.

The next night they attended the girl's ballet recital much to Justin's exasperation. The determined boy tried every excuse in the world to skip his sisters' show but his parents refused to relent. They even made him comb his hair and wear a dress shirt. Charlie sat next to his nephew who scowled as the girls, dressed as tiny swans, danced across the stage with a dozen other little girls. Charlie leaned over and whispered something to Justin causing him to snicker, which elicited more than one disapproving glare from Don and Robin.

After the show, Charlie had presented each little ballerina with a bouquet of pink roses that matched their tutus and they instantly decided that Uncle Charlie had to be the best uncle in the world. Afterwards, they went out for burgers and fries — a happy, noisy little family.

Later that night, Charlie woke from a troubled sleep grasping at his throat, struggling for breath, covered in sweat and trembling. He threw back the covers and sat up, wiping a shaking hand across his eyes. "Hicks, please leave me alone!" He whispered to no one.

He glanced at the clock — three AM, the hour the ghosts are always more active. He considered calling Mike but decided against it. What could he say? _'I dreamed about the mountain again. I_ _couldn't get back to sleep so I decided you didn't need any more sleep either.'_ That would be pathetic. He ran his hands through his rumpled hair, closed his eyes and for a moment, he saw it all again.

_It was that last hour just before dawn and hell had come to earth. He grabbed what he could and ran just before the building exploded into a thousand pieces. He was running and running and running. Acrid smoke stung his eyes blinding him. His lungs burned making breathing difficult — and it was so terribly, terribly cold. His ears rang from the roar and the concussion of rockets exploding all around him. The crisp, rapid crack of automatic gunfire cut though the icy air. He felt the 5.56 cartridges whizzing by within inches of his head. Someone close to him screamed and bits of skull and blood flew everywhere. Someone yelled at him and he fell. Suddenly he was alone, alone in a silent, frigid crystalline fairyland. He rose to his feet and turned._

_"Now die, little fox," the voice hissed as a razor sharp blade laid his throat open from ear to ear._

And THAT was when he always woke — the one part of the nightmare that never actually happened.

Charlie climbed out of bed. He paused for a second examining his unmarked throat in the mirror. "One of these days they are going to stuff your happy ass in a padded cell," he said shaking his head.

Suddenly he needed space. He had to get out of that room. He hurried down the hall to the solarium. He sat crossed-legged on the couch steadying his breath, feeling his heart rate slow to something close to normal.

Charlie was not sure how long he sat there before his father slowly shuffled by tying the sash of his robe. Charlie smiled. His father had worn the same faded old robe for at least fifteen years. It was a little too large now and its owner seemed a little more stooped than Charlie remembered. For a second he debated on whether or not he should say something but the choice was taken out of his hands when Alan Eppes stopped and turned his direction.

"Charlie, are you all right?" He asked concerned.

"I might ask you the same thing, Dad," the younger man said.

"Son, at my age you find yourself getting up to go the bathroom more and more often," he sat beside his youngest. "I can remember you spending a lot of time in here over the years."

Charlie smiled, "I was either here, at CalSci, in the garage or at the park. I was nothing if not predictable."

Alan nodded. He wrung his hands for a moment then he reached and touched his son's wrist, hesitating as if he was not sure he should speak, "Charlie, Don told me … he told about your wife and baby," he said. "I am so sorry."

"For a FBI agent Don gossips more than Aunt Irene's Mahjong club," Charlie sighed and looked away for a second, "Don wasn't supposed to tell you about that," he whispered.

"Charlie, you have to know that…I'm your father, no matter what our differences, if you had called, I'd have been there, we both would have," Alan squeezed his son's wrist.

"I wasn't really thinking that straight at the time and well, we hadn't spoken in years. Neither of you even knew I was married. Everything here was so concentrated on Don and his family; I just thought it best not to call you. Later, it just seemed like it was too late," Charlie said softly.

"Son, please tell me …you didn't have to go through that …" Alan whispered.

"I wasn't alone, Dad. I have good friends and they were there for me." The younger man folded his hand around his father's, "I used to pray they would go away but they never did no matter how obnoxious I got."

Alan smiled and gently stroked his boy's curls. "I'm glad you had someone to take care of you but son, it should have been us," he whispered tears stinging his eyes.

Charlie closed his eyes for a second, "Dad, can I ask you…," He took a ragged breath. "People keep telling me what I should do, you know, to get back into life and I've done some of it but… it's hard, Dad." He felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "Some people have even asked me when I'm going to take off my wedding ring since I'm not…married anymore. I'm just not … I'm not … I just can't do that. Maybe it's wrong but in my heart, I am still married."

Alan tenderly cupped his son's cheek in his hand. "Charlie, after your mother died, I went through the same things you're going through. I know friends mean well but you'll know when it's time to make changes in your life. Only you can decide when it's time to stop wearing your wedding ring. Grief Charlie, grief takes as long as it takes." He clasped his son's thin trembling hand and a small smile touched his lips as he gazed at the fingers wrapped around his, "After all these years, you still bite your nails," he said gently.

"Old habits die hard," Charlie said.

"They most certainly do." For a few minutes, both men were silent. "Son," tears choked the older man's voice as sobs racked his body, "I am so sorry for so many things. I wish I could change the past but I can't. Maybe it's too late for us …"

Charlie slipped his arms around his father and held him, stroking his thinning hair, gently rubbing his shoulders, feeling a twinge of pain at how frail his father felt through his robe. "I love you, Dad. I love you very much," he whispered. "It's going to be alright."

The older man slid his arms around his son who, for the first time in many years, welcomed his embrace and did not pull away.

…

"This was all your idea, you know," Don said as he grabbed a beer for himself and poured his brother a glass of wine.

"My idea? I don't understand." Charlie looked perplexed. He appreciated Don and Robin having a barbeque for him at their house but it was in no way _his _idea.

"Once upon a time, you told me to get married, have kids, and have friends over often," Don said. "I still have that letter – you know – as evidence in case you want to deny the facts."

Charlie took a sip of his wine. "I'm glad to see you've taken my advice. You do seem to smile more often, hell you even laugh out loud sometimes," Charlie grinned. "But when I told you to have kids, I didn't mean for you to start your own school."

Don chuckled, "Jerk," he said affectionately then caught a ball as it flew towards the table. "Kids, be more careful!" He shouted tossing it back then turned his attention to his brother, "I have the team here at least once, sometimes twice a month. It feels very comfortable, little brother, the whole suburbia family man scenario."

They sat for a while finishing their drinks, watching the team argue good-naturedly about who contributed the most in solving their last case. Alan tossed the ball with his grandchildren while Robin played with David.

Finally, Don grabbed another beer for himself and refilled Charlie's glass with ruby red merlot. "Come on," he stood up. "I don't believe I gave you the grand tour." He motioned for his brother to follow him into the house away from the exuberant, noisy crowd.

They moved slowly from room to room while Don explained some of the changes they had made and some they had planned. "I'm thinking of converting the garage into a den but, I'm not sure it's worth the cost," he said as they headed up stairs.

"The kid's rooms are a mess but well, they're kids," Don said as they passed a couple of doors.

"Your home is beautiful, Don," Charlie said.

"Robin has done a great job but…" Don sighed. "When we bought the place we expected to have two kids at the most. With four… well, right now things are fine but they are growing so fast, Charlie. Soon, this house is just going to be too small. It already is in some ways. We're looking for a bigger place but with the current market, it won't be easy to pull off," he smiled. "I may have to get a job as a security guard at night. Hey, I hear mercs make a lot of money. Are you hiring by any chance?" Don asked jokingly as he led his brother into the master bedroom and closed the door behind them. He wanted some quiet time alone with Charlie and the bedroom was the one place he knew he could get that.

"Why don't you run that one past Robin," Charlie laughed. "Just tell her you'll be heading off to a war zone for six months to a year and you'll see her when you get back — if you get back. That should go over great."

"Charlie, have you ever thought about quitting? I mean, you're a rich man, you don't need the money and…" Don asked.

Charlie sighed, "At our level, once you're in, there is no getting out. I could be eighty years old and they could call me back if they needed me. But that being said, lately … let's just say we're considering our options and leave it at that." He took a sip of his wine and peaked out the window at Don's children running like wild colts across the back yard, their dogs yapping at their heels. "You have such a beautiful family, Don. You are truly blessed," he said tenderly.

"Yeah well, they can be a handful, Charlie. If the kids ever get to be too much, please feel free to say something. I know they are very excited to have you here but…"

"No, they're great kids. I love spending time with them. The girls and David are so sweet and Justin is…"

"…very much like his uncle. We've all noticed, believe me," Don sat on the bed.

"I was going to say a very special young man," Charlie said with a smile.

For a while, silence fell between the two. Charlie leaned against the wall, took a breath and looked at his brother, "Well, big brother," he said, "I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Don asked.

"Don, I know you. You didn't bring me in here to show me your new duvet. You want to ask me something and you're not sure how," Charlie said. "So, go ahead and ask. If I can answer, I will."

Don's eyes locked on his brother's, "Charlie…why…why did you leave us like that and why for the love of God, didn't you let us know you were alive? Please, I need to know."

And so it had come at last — one of the main reasons Charlie had almost canceled this trip entirely and for a moment, he wished he had followed his own instincts and not listened to Mike.

…

_It was almost midnight on Tuesday night. A anxious Charlie Eppes picked up the phone to call his brother. It had been his intention to tell him he would not be able to make it to Pasadena after all. There was too much going on in his life. There was a possibility he would have to leave the country for a while. He was falling behind with the latest installation of the Devils series, he had been asked to guest-lecture at NYU, he was developing a fear of flying, he was feeling like he was coming down with a cold … blah-blah-blah. He could think of a dozen reasons, real and contrived, to cancel and not one good one to go through with the reunion. _

_It was not the idea of Los Angeles that petrified him. He had been there many times in the last few years. He would fly in for a day or two, take care of a little business, spend some time with Gary at the hospital, meet his father for dinner or lunch and then fly home. No, the thought of Los Angeles didn't bother him at all. It was the idea of staying at the Craftsman that had him on the verge of a full-scale panic attack such as he hadn't suffered in years. Charlie knew the house was filled with memories, some good, some sad and some as violent and terrifying as a nightmarish carrion bird that ripped at his flesh and tore at his eyes. It was those memories he didn't want to face. _

_The last time he had seen the old house with his own eyes was that final moment as he pulled out of the driveway a week after the incident on the bridge. He had stopped the car and glanced back. The mid-morning sun was glinting off the windows and a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. For an instant, he thought he saw a hand aside the blinds and a shadowy figure peered out watching him leave. _

_He wondered if the spectral visage belonged to his mother or one of the other 'ghosts' that walked its halls __—__ or perhaps it was the spirit of the house its self saying goodbye to one who cherished it so much._

_Charlie had firmly set his jaw and pushed all those thoughts out of his head. The utterly logical mathematician knew the image was just an optical illusion __—__ a reflection in the glass or light refracting through residue left from cleaning products __—__ coupled with a fatigued, sorrow-laden mind. There was no such thing as ghosts, and despite his drunken, rather uncharacteristically poetic ramblings to Don on a summer's night so many years before, a house had no soul of its own. At the end of the day, the Craftsman was just a very valuable piece of real estate. It would no more miss him than the koi would remember him or cared who fed them as long as they were fed. His life in that house was over; it was time to move on. He turned, faced forward, pulled out of the driveway and he never looked back again, not in six years._

_In the days and weeks following Don's departure, as the reunion grew closer, his sense of dread over the whole thing grew from a tiny acorn in to a mighty oak. He even called Mike Donovan telling his friend that he was afraid he had made a mistake in agreeing to this visit. A few days was one thing but two weeks was a different story altogether. _

_"Little partner," Mike said in a tone Charlie knew and didn't like, a tone that usually meant things were not going to go his way. "You know I'm not all that wild about Mordor and its inhabitants but… this time I think you should bite the bullet. Charlie, you should go home."_

_Charlie felt disappointment at his friend's words. He half expected him to say 'Fuck Pasadena, Squirrel', but he hadn't. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Mike," he said. _

_"I know it won't be easy but you need to do this, not for their sake but for your own. You have a few dragons left to slay, Charlie." Mike said. "Go and take care of them once and for all and then get on with your life."_

_Charlie took a couple of deep breaths, "I don't know, maybe it's true what the man said, 'You Can't Go Home Again',"_

_"Townsend said 'Hope I Die Before I Get Old'. I imagine he changed his mind when the first gray hairs and wrinkles appeared," Mike chuckled. _

_"Mike, I'm just…"_

_"You know Rock; fate only gives all of us so much luck. We've been spending it like a drunken frat boy in Vegas and now I think our account is running low. Face it, we've been playing fast and loose with the odds, acting as if we're immortal for a while now. Well, we aren't my little friend and neither is your father," Mike said gently._

_"Alan is old, Charlie whether you want to face that fact or not. He wants one more thing in this life before he leaves it. He wants to see his family together again. That is the greatest gift you can give him so, go home, be the son he needs one last time before death takes him __—__ or you, Charlie, or you."_

_"There's something coming up isn't there?" _

_"Yeah, there is __—__ very soon," Mike said quietly. "Look, if things get tough in Mordor, you can give me a call or give Gus a call. He can sing some Hank Williams over the phone or better yet a little of Bill Monroe's Muleskinner Blues, ' That should pick you up."_

_"Or lay me out," Charlie laughed. "Yeah I guess you're right, damn it. Hey, do you have any more words of wisdom for me?"_

_"Always and here they are, 'All is gas and gaiters," Mike said dead serious. _

_Initially his words were met with stunned silence then Charlie snorted nearly choking on his wine, "What the hell does that mean?" _

_"I have no idea. I only know it's Charles Dickens. I heard it in Lit class in the ninth grade and it stuck in my head. I've never been able to shake it loose."_

_"Of all the awe inspiring words Charles Dickens wrote, 'All is gas and gaiters' is what you remember!" Charlie said affectionately. "I guess that's why we get along so well."_

_A little over an hour and half a bottle of wine later, Charlie sat holding his cell phone ready to punch in his brother's number. Mike had made some good points with all he had said but Charlie just wasn't sure he was ready to tackle home and all that meant. He would call Don and let him know he was going to have to throttle back on his plans. He would fly in for a day or two and perhaps later, in the spring, he could spend more time with his father. _

_Charlie quickly dialed the number and waited while the phone rang. For a second he thought Don wasn't going to answer then Charlie heard that familiar FBI tone, "Eppes,"_

"_Don," he said, "it's me, Charlie."_

"_Buddy, I was going to call you in the morning," Don sounded happy. "I need your flight information so Dad and I can pick you up on Friday. The kids want to come but I told them we didn't want you to turn around and jump on the next flight home. They needed to let you get settled in then they can meet you later, at the awards dinner." _

"_Yeah, Don that's why I was calling. I …" Charlie started to splutter. _

"_Don't tell me something has happened," Don interrupted, "Charlie, Dad has been on cloud nine since I told him you were coming. He had tears in his eyes and…"_

'_God,' Charlie thought. He took a deep breath. "Don nothing has happened. I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to bother with the hassle of the airport. I…" Charlie quickly decided to try his backup plan, "I can rent a car and drive to the apartment. I'll freshen up and see you at the house at around six."_

_Don didn't say anything for a second, "Charlie, Dad is looking forward to us picking you up, it's no bother and what apartment? We thought you were staying at the house." The elder Eppes brother sounded bewildered._

"_I don't want to be a bother. Mike has a place on the ocean in Venice Beach. I always stay there when I'm in town." Charlie explained. _

"_Venice Beach! Yeah, that sounds about right," Don sounded amused. "I know that all of this might be a little much for you but Dad has spent the last three weeks fixing up the guest room. He had the walls painted and bought a new mattress and all new sheets. He's planned to cook some of your favorite dishes and…I think he would be very disappointed if you stayed anywhere else." _

_Charlie quickly came to realize his family had very successfully boxed him in. No matter what move he attempted, Don was going to have a counter-move using their elderly father to guilt him into doing the right thing. The man was shameless and diabolical! He sighed knowing defeat when he saw it, "Okay, if you're sure it's not a problem," he gave his brother his flight information and hung up the phone. He sank onto the overstuffed chair by the fireplace and threw one leg over the arm. "I'm doomed," he whispered and put his hand over his eyes._

…

Charlie looked down into his half-empty glass trying to gather strength. When he looked up, he saw no accusation in Don's eyes, no anger. All he saw was man he had hurt, a man who deserved answers — and Charlie knew the time had come to slay this dragon and to face head-on the dark tapestry that was his past.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. This was supposed to be the last chapter but it ran on a bit too long. It is very close to an end now — if Charlie and Don will just stop talking.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part One

"Do you remember that first case I helped you with, the one just after my abduction?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, of course I do. It was a serial killer. I didn't want you involved because you had been through so much and that case was … horrendous even for seasoned agents." Don said getting up from the bed and standing beside his brother. "I wanted to protect you but, thank God, you just wouldn't stay out of it. If it hadn't been for you disregarding my wishes, we might not have captured the son of a bitch. I don't even want to imagine how many more women might have died at his hands if we hadn't. You did good, buddy."

Charlie smiled slightly. In years past, his big brother always tried to look after him whether he liked it or not or whether he needed it or not. He felt a little embarrassed that even now some tiny, miniscule almost microscopic part of the old Charlie missed that a little. "Afterwards, when I left headquarters to go home, I ran into Al in the visitor's garage." Charlie looked out the window for a second, "He was in bad shape, Don, I mean, the man was never in good shape but that night … I can still remember how agitated he was, how frenzied. He was twitching, his mouth and nostrils were so raw they were bleeding and he smelled like … death." Charlie's eyes narrowed at the memory. "He smelled like death," he repeated so softly Don almost didn't hear him.

Don touched his brother's arm, "He didn't hurt you, did he? There are security guards on every level of that place, all you had to do was shout for help and …,"

Charlie looked at his brother for a second, "Oh Don, if you only knew the half of it. Al was the last person I had to worry about hurting me," he said sadly and went on with his narrative, "I offered to take him to the mission or to a hospital but he wouldn't let me. He said shelters didn't accept people like him and that, he had gotten clean before but he didn't much care for it."

Charlie gazed out the window picturing that warm night and the homeless man whom he eventually came to admire. He hadn't understood Al at that time, or why he wouldn't want to get off the streets and kick the habits that were obviously killing him. Later, when he came to know the man better, he would understand. He would understand all too well. '_There but for the grace of God …, as Uncle Stan used to say,' _he thought. Sometimes reality is all too real.

"He called me Doc, Al always called me Doc. He asked if I had some spare change just as he has for years. I gave him a few bucks and he started babbling on about evil prowling the night and I should hurry home, that it wasn't safe there for someone like me." Charlie could still remember Al's exact words and he repeated them verbatim for his brother.

_"I saw Lucifer himself earlier. He's hunting for souls tonight. You run if you see him, Doc, you run real fast!" _Charlie closed his eyes tightly for a second._"Over there! I saw him again! You get out of here now before he gets you like he got the others._"

Charlie opened his eyes, "I should have heeded Al's warning, Don. I should have listened but…," he said in a soft, husky voice, "even if I had, it wouldn't have made any real difference."

Don gently squeezed the arm he was touching, "Buddy, you couldn't believe anything Al said. He had fried his brain with all that crap he huffed or smoked. He killed himself with it about six months after you disappeared."

Charlie slowly shook his head, "Al's death was not an accident, Don. He didn't die from huffing or crack — not willingly anyway."

"The coroner disagrees with you on that one. He had a damned paper bag containing a paint thinner soaked rag in his hand and a crack pipe was on the ground beside his body. Besides, you weren't even here, how could you possibly know how …," Don fell silent at his brother's steady gaze.

"When I got home that night … Hicks…Hicks was waiting for me and Don, Azariah had been there watching our father sleep." Charlie saw his brother pale at those words.

For the first time Charlie gave voice to the horror that had taken place in his bedroom on that night and in the weeks that followed. He spoke quietly, serenely, giving his FBI brother the details with clinical detachment as if he were an official filling out a report of a crime that had happened to someone else in their home, not to him in his own. The eerily calm manner in which he related the facts belied the turmoil roiling just beneath the surface. Even after seven years, the memory of that night still chilled him to his bones.

After Hicks left, he sat at his desk for hours. His hands, stinging and oozing scarlet from the thorns that pierced them, rested on its worn oak surface. Azariah's crumpled blood-splotched note lay in-between them.

He felt violated … he felt raped. As he sat there perfectly still, he thought heard the slow solemn tolling of a bell drifting in on the breeze through his open window. As in days of old, it tolled three times. It tolled for Charlie Eppes. It tolled for the man he once was. It tolled for the life he thought he would lead — now gone forever and all that was left in its place was ashes.

As Don listened to the description of how some murderous bastard threatened their helpless, sleeping father, and held a knife to his brother's throat, he felt increasingly sickened, and horrified. He had no way of knowing that Charlie was sharing a secret he had revealed to no one else, a secret he had locked away in a mental vault and buried in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind; not even Mike Donovan knew the exact details of that night. Don — his older brother — would be the only other living person, besides himself, who would ever know.

Charlie saw the look that crossed Don's face. He abruptly stopped talking and turned away wondering if he had made a mistake in being so meticulously honest. He and his brother were trying to mend their broken relationship and they had made great strides in that direction. They had both spent weeks chipping away at the immense, thick wall separating them. It was now not much more than a, thin gauzy curtain … but it was still there … it still stood between them. Now Charlie feared that Don was preparing to grab bricks and mortar and rebuild that wall higher and thicker than ever.

The elder Eppes brother ran his hands over his dry mouth. He was staggered by what he had just learned. He had no idea what to say or how to react. Finally, knowing he had to say something or Charlie might close himself off again, Don gently laid his hand on his shoulder and grasped the thin wrist.

"My God, buddy" he gasped, "why, why didn't you come to me? I would have…"

"You would have done what, Don, put me in a safe house? Put Dad, you, Robin, Larry, the entire team, put us all in a safe house? For how long Don, months perhaps — or years? Hey, maybe we could all live together in a fortified compound like those survivalists in Montana. Or would you have assigned a protection detail to all of us? Are there even enough agents for that in Los Angeles?" Charlie shook his head, "Big brother, you could not have protected me or Dad or even yourself. Azariah had people everywhere — even in the Bureau." He waited for that bit of knowledge to sink in. "Believe me when I tell you the man was very powerful and he had a very, very long reach."

"Charlie, if you had called us right away, we would have …"

"Caught Hicks? I doubt it, but even if you had, he was a nobody, a pawn among many pawns, merely a means to an end." Charlie moved away from his brother and sat on the edge of the bed.

"But you went to Donovan for help, didn't you?" Don said a little more sharply than he intended. "Why Donovan and not the people who have trusted you and cared for you for years?"

"I didn't go to Mike — Mike came to me." Charlie answered and smiled. "He always accused _you _of being an overbearing mother hen; where his men are concerned, he makes you look downright neglectful. On our last deployment, if I had allowed him to station me as far back as he wished I'd have been in Tokyo." Charlie chuckled and Don had to smile at that one.

"I knew Mike had people keeping an eye on me while he was gone, I just never imagined how many." Charlie's smile faded. "But Hicks also had his spies and one of them took out my bodyguard that night. Luckily, this time, he didn't kill the man, he just chloroformed him. After a few hours of nausea and a pounding headache, he was fine."

Don sat next to his brother as he continued speaking. "When Mike found out, he wanted to get back here right away but his assignment was very important. Lives depended on him and there was no replacement — or so Harrington claimed. It took him three weeks to get home and during that time …," Charlie closed his eyes. "During that time I was constantly under siege, constantly on edge. Before that night, I was even considering going back to work but that became impossible. My presence would have endangered my students and my colleagues."

"Not a day passed when he didn't let me know how easy it would be for him to kill you or Dad just like he threatened. I was terrified I'd find Dad gutted in the kitchen or you…," Charlie shuddered.

"In his note Azariah said to watch for the signs because he was always with me and, true to his word, the signs came one after the other. I'd see them in your office, in Dad's car, in the garage, little things, so subtle no one noticed except me. He seemed to be everywhere all at once. He truly was — legion. I never had a minute's peace. I was hunted day and night. Once, after I left Headquarters, I was chased until Al…" Charlie looked at Don.

"Then Mike came home. I got a message to meet him at the hanger, the same one we use for the helos when we're in L.A." He bowed his head for a second. "I still remember the look on Mike's face when I asked him to teach me to take care of myself."

"You could have asked me, you know. I'd have taught you to …," Don stopped short at the amused look on Charlie's face. Even he saw the folly in that statement. Beyond the brief training course his younger brother had had taken from the FBI, Don saw no reason for Charlie to take self-protection any further. After all he and the team could protect him if necessary. Wasn't that what law enforcement was for? '_When seconds count, the cops are only minutes away.'_ Don squirmed as that old adage flashed through his mind. '_More like twenty minutes these days.' _ He thought.

"Believe me, Don, Mike didn't like the idea any better than you would have but he knew what had to be done if I was to have any chance of survival, so — he taught me," he shook his head. "Gunny was — no — Gunny _**is **_tough on me to put it mildly. It seems whenever that Marine does something 'for your own good,' it's more often than not, very painful."

"You were terrified and desperate, I understand that," Don gently touched his brother's shoulder. "But, you still haven't told me why you left us with nothing more than a pile of folders and a note that told us nothing except that you'd be back in three months, which by the way — you weren't, or why you never contacted us and at least let us know that you were alive. Why, Charlie? This is what I need to know. You broke our hearts. Dad nearly died from worry and grief. You destroyed our family. Please, at least give me a reason for all of this, something more than Hicks!"

"Because," Charlie took a deep breath, "I had to Don; I didn't see any other way to protect all of you." He blinked a couple of times."One night I received an e-mail I thought was from Dad. It came from his address. I thought it was weird that he would e-mail me from his room when I was two doors down. Normally he just shouts. When I saw there was an attachment, I thought maybe he sent me some of those Maxine cartons he enjoys because they remind him of Aunt Irene, but when I opened it I nearly …!" he blanched at the memory.

"It was candid shots of Dad, you, Larry, and even the team at different times during the day. He had edited in music by _Mayhem _and nauseatingly graphic, bloody scenes of torture and violent death culled from underground horror movies. I lost it! I tried to back-trace the message but that proved impossible because it kept bouncing off servers all over the world. Azariah also knows his computers. I was on the brink of losing my mind when my phone rang."

"I thought it was probably Mike checking in. I didn't recognize the number but then, we frequently use burn-phones because they aren't traceable and you just toss 'um after a week or so. I was wrong. It was the Evil Overlord himself. He had added a new layer to his perverse game. Within twenty-four hours, I would receive an offer. I was to accept that offer and tell no one about it. Any deviation from this and he would … slaughter Dad first and then you, then the others. Your deaths would make the video look like Bambi." Charlie laid his hand on top of Don's, "Not even a day later, Harrington contacted me." Charlie removed his hand from his brother's and looked away.

"I remember that last night, sitting alone in the garage. I had been there for hours and by then it must have been two AM. I couldn't think any more. Food made me physically ill. Every sound in the night, every stranger passing the house made my heart nearly rip out of my chest. I had been driven and beaten into the ground. I was so damned exhausted yet, I couldn't sleep and I hadn't in weeks." Charlie could feel Don's eyes on him.

"I craved sleep, Don. Just a few hours of dreamless blessed sleep. I felt — desolate and I wasn't entirely rational. I had a couple of Oxys, a Vicodin and a Xanax. I figured if I washed those down with some Crystal Head Vodka I could get some rest." Charlie felt his brother stiffen. "I didn't take the pills but I did finish half the freaking Crystal Head and it was the 1.75L bottle. I woke up to Mike dumping a bucket of ice water on my head. You don't know what misery is until you have a killer hangover and a Marine gunnery sergeant screaming about six inches from your ears."

"I thought about that night often while I was away and I've thought about it a lot since. I'm not sure I even had enough pills to kill me. It takes more than most people think, but… maybe it would have been better if I had taken them. You and Dad would have been safe and maybe so much of what followed never would have happened. Poor Al might even still be bothering people for change. Even Dee, if I had died that night, Dee would still be alive." He had a strange, disquieting look in his dark eyes. "I just don't know, Don. I've spent years trying to make sense of it all, trying to understand why I'm alive and so many good people aren't but the answers never come."

"Charlie, it's called …"

"Survivor's guilt — I know. Having a name for it doesn't make it any easier." Charlie said.

"I spent the next few hours in the bathroom paying dearly for my sins of the night before." He chuckled softly, "but by midmorning I was able to get it together enough to do what I had to do. I already had my bags packed; all the files were ready and the note written. It was really just a matter of throwing my stuff in the SUV and leaving the files on the dining room table where Dad would find them."

"Charlie, why didn't you call us or wait for …?"

"Because, I wasn't sure I could say goodbye in person. It would be so hard and both of you would have so many questions that I just couldn't answer. If I tried to feed you some story, well, I never could fool either of you. You'd have known I was lying before I opened my mouth." Charlie held his brother's gaze with his eyes. "Besides, I did say goodbye to you that night. You were just so pissed with me that you didn't answer."

Don flinched at the memory of Charlie looking so dreadfully tired and downtrodden, arms hanging limply at his side, dark eyes devoid of all emotion, standing in front of one his black boards in the garage as his sanctimonious older brother hurled accusations at his head.

All the old names from their turbulent relationship came flying out of Don's mouth. His brother was self-centered, egotistical, self-absorbed, the most supremely selfish person it had ever been his misfortune to know.

Charlie said nothing in his own defense — not one word. It was only as the furious older Eppes brother, spun on his heels and charged though the door towards the driveway that Charlie spoke and then he only said two words, _'Don — goodbye_,'. Don had not responded. He was too livid. Being forced to leave an expensive restaurant in the middle of dinner to pick up his father because Charlie had once again forgotten him had caused a huge fight between himself and Robin. By the next day he had calmed down and wanted to apologize but before he got the chance, Don received a frantic call from their father and he had rushed over. It was too late — his little brother was gone.

Still smarting from guilt about that night Don's voice faltered as he asked, "Your note said you'd be home in three months. Was that one of those lies you were going to tell us?"

Charlie shook his head, "No, that was what _I_ was told. We had eight weeks of training then four weeks in the field and we'd all be home." He closed his eyes for a second, "That was the first of many deceptions to come and the beginning of a betrayal."

"Why …"

"I could see those e-mails Dad sent," Charlie interrupted stunning Don into silence, "I could read them but I couldn't answer. I couldn't … break protocol." He looked away for a second then he looked into his brother's eyes.

"Couldn't you have sent us some kind of message? You're good at all of that covert shit. You can make a computer do anything you want it to. I _know_ you could have found a way. Why didn't you?"

Charlie knew his position at that moment was very precarious. He could tell Don was on the fence as far as their relationship was concerned, vacillating between total forgiveness and cutting him off again — this time forever. He knew if he couldn't make his brother understand why he had done what he had done; this would be last time they would speak.

He stood and walked away. He hung his head and took a moment then, very calmly, he continued. "Don, that mission was highly classified and extremely sensitive in nature. Even during training, we weren't allowed outside contact. We couldn't risk that someone would inadvertently say or do something that would compromise our position or our status."

He turned and faced his brother who was watching him from the bed, "All of us were in the same boat, not just me! All of us had friends and loved ones we missed and wanted to contact but by orders directly from the DOD, the NSA and Homeland Security we couldn't, not until it was over. And yes, you're right, in all likelihood, I could have gotten around any security they set up but if I got caught I'd be spending the next twenty years in federal prison under the Patriots Act. They were very clear about that. Would _you_ have risked it? Besides, what makes me so damned special?" He threw his arms out.

"What gave me the right to put at risk a project that could be vital to the safety of our troops and to compromise the safety of our unit, myself included, just because I missed my big brother and Daddy?" He took a step forward and pounding his balled fist into his palm emphasizing each word, he shouted, "**I-had-no-right, Don**!" Then in a near whisper, "I had no right." He held his hands out as if offering his brother a gift.

"We were all in that hell together and I vowed from the beginning that I would demand no special privileges and I would stand with them as a team and share whatever came no matter how tough. I would even eat the damned MRE's without bitching too much. Except for the beef stew ones, they are horrible beyond belief."

"And, there was one other thing," Charlie sat down beside his brother, "I had a promise from Azariah that if I went far away he would leave you and all that I loved alone. You could all go on with your lives totally ignorant of the fact that the monsters in your closet were very real. That the man delivering your pizza, selling you a cup of coffee on the corner, pushing a cart from the mail room or sitting at the desk in the next office was one order away from cutting out your eyes. I guess I had no reason to trust him, but I had no other choice. All I could do was hope. As it turned out, he was a monster, but an honorable one. He kept his word. He turned his attention away from all of you and followed me instead."

Both men sat staring straight ahead. Charlie's hands rested at his sides palms flat on the bed. Don's were clasped so tightly together, they trembled and the knuckles were pale. He raised them to his parted lips and closed his eyes. He started to say something but he stopped.

For a while, Charlie thought Don still needed more, but alas — he had nothing more to tell. He had explained the best he could. He had been honest; he had laid bare his very soul as he had to no one else, not even to the men he had bled with, and fought beside. If it was not good enough for his hard-nosed brother what more could he do? The next move was Don's.

It startled Charlie a little when the arm slid around his shoulder. "Charlie," the voice was shaking with emotion, "I'm just so..."

"Can you start to forgive me a little now?" Charlie asked.

He heard Don take a deep breath, "You don't need my forgiveness, little brother. Can you forgive me for being a pompous, arrogant ass for all these years?" He squeezed his brother's shoulders.

"I already have, a very long time ago." Charlie said. He glanced at his brother. "Don, don't tell Dad what we talked about. He doesn't…,"

"Buddy, the only thing Dad needs to know is that you're back in our lives. That's enough for him." Don ruffled his brother's unruly curls. "He still considers you his baby you know."

"I know," Charlie smiled and slid to the floor. Sitting crossed legged, he leaned back against the bed. Don soon joined him.

"It wasn't easy you know," he said glancing at his brother, "training Prof. Eppes. That's what Mike called those eight weeks. For a while, it looked like neither Hicks nor Azariah were going to get a chance to kill me, I was fairly sure Mike was going to do the job himself."

"I guess he can be pretty tough." Don said.

"You have no idea!" Charlie exclaimed. "He'd have us up at four AM every day seven days a week. We'd do two hours of intensive calisthenics then run for five miles with a full pack on our backs. With the body armor, the weapon and ammo we had to carry, that was about seventy-five extra pounds. Only after all of that were we allowed to have breakfast. This was in any weather, any conditions and there was no excuse not to complete the routine except perhaps death and even _that_ was at Gunny's discretion." Charlie practically shivered at the memory. "We weren't even allowed to drop dead unless he signed off on it."

"If Mike was hard on everyone else, he was doubly so on me. He pounded me into the ground. Once during a fifteen-mile ruck march in the driving rain after the umpteenth time I fell behind and he bellowed at me calling me every name in the book, I had had enough. I broke away from the group and sat down on a fallen tree. Mike got right in my face and demanded to know what the hell I was doing. I told him I was waiting for a cab. Never give a smart answer to Donovan during training, not unless you want him to knock you on your ass then drag you to your feet by whatever he can grab." Charlie smiled.

That had been a pivotal moment in his training. He had cursed Mike, thrown his rifle to the muddy ground, and taken a swing at the Marine. His fist had connected with the snarling mouth, startling him more than it hurt Mike. A spilt second later, a fist shot out lightning fast, bloodying Charlie's nose and knocking the helmet from his head. Grabbing him by his jacket, Mike had hauled him to his feet, slamming him into a tree so mercilessly hard, the back of Charlie's head hit the rough bark and he saw stars.

The GySgt put his face about two inches from Charlie's, "Listen to me, Eppes, if it was within my power, I'd drop-kick your skinny, useless ass back to California. However, the powers-that-be, have made their decision, stupid though it might be. In order to prepare you, you've been given the opportunity, no, the _**privilege **_to receive the best training available. You can man-up and learn the skills that will enable you to take care of your own ass. Or you can do what you always do and play the defenseless little scholar who everybody has to protect from the mean, nasty bullies, who everybody has to take care of 'cause he's just too precious."

"_**You, **_Eppes are a danger, burden and a detriment to these men and this mission." He slammed Charlie into the tree again, "What's it gonna be, _**Professor**_? Are you gonna do what everyone expects you to do and run whining back to Pasadena and let your Daddy and big brother wipe your snotty nose for you like they have all your elitist life? Are you gonna hide in the lab and play scientist like Davis or are you gonna pick up that rifle, join the rest of us and be a fuckin' man?" He got even closer and growled. "You may not believe in war, Charlie but you know what? War doesn't give a fuck what you believe. Pacifists die in wars every damned day just as quickly as soldiers do."

Charlie was hurt, miserable, furious and humiliated. And he knew Mike was 100% correct. He bent and picked up the rifle. He pulled the now filthy helmet back over his aching head, ignoring the pain from the lump and scrapes on the back of his skull and the bruises from Gunny Donovan's iron-like grasp. He joined the others and he finished that ruck march — and every one that came after it.

He went on to describe in detail the remaining weeks under Mike's anything but gentle tutelage. Soon he and Don were laughing so hard the tears were running down their cheeks as he told him the story of his not so smooth transformation from math professor to soldier— starting with the now legendary saga of Charlie and the AR.

"From the beginning, I was not supposed to carry a weapon. My position on the mission did not require it but Mike insisted I qualify with every weapon at our disposal. He wanted me to know each one inside out, backwards and forwards, just in case, and bless him, he was so right!"

Don looked amazed at first and then he nearly choked on his beer laughing, as Charlie continued.

"I can still hear Mike shouting at me telling me not to hold that rifle like that but did I listen — of course not. I always have to learn the hard way, as you well know. The end results of my refusing to take advise was that I went around looking like the Little Rascals dog for about a week from the scope slamming into my eye and then there was his armorer class…"

"I was holding an AR waiting for instructions on how to break it down and repair it in the field. It's a good thing the trailer was in the middle of nowhere and there was nothing outside except a field and our range because I picked the thing up thinking how much it looked like a rifle in a video game. By the way, NEVER call a rifle a gun in Mike's presence, not unless you want a twenty-minute lecture on the difference. The next thing I knew, the entire classroom smelled like gunpowder, there was a split in the barrel, my ears were ringing, and there was a hole the size of a golf ball in the wall." Don all but spit his beer across the room with that one.

"Mike grabbed that rifle out of my hands and slammed it down on the table. His face was so red I thought he was going to have a stroke. He was screaming and spit was flying out of his mouth along with the expletives!" To Don's great delight, Charlie did a perfect impression of a furious GySgt on the rampage.

"EPPES, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU DO WHEN HANDED A WEAPON? The first thing you always do when handed a weapon is CLEAR THE FUCKING WEAPON! THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN UNLOADED WEAPON! If you suspect you may have a squib round, STOP FIRING IMMEDIATLY and check the goddamned barrel before another round hits it and blows the son of a bitch apart taking your fucking hand with it. YOU GOT FUCKIN' LUCKY THIS TIME, EPPES! ALWAYS REMEMBER…KEEP YOUR DAMNED FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER UNLESS YOU ARE ON TARGET AND MEAN TO FIRE! If a rifle is jammed and all else fails, you can take apart the trigger assembly as I will show you in about two minutes and the weapon will then be deactivated and you can safely make your needed repairs. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, EPPES?"

Don was practically falling over with laughter. "What did you say?" He asked when he got hold of himself.

"Nothing, I was too stunned. This only made him madder. Mike had me in that cold snake eyed gaze of his and I felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi." Charlie said catching his breath and wiping the tears from his cheek. "Oh and of course Gus just had to add fuel to the fire when he piped in."

"Hey, Eppes, I think you bagged yourself a danged ol' cyote! Naw… never mind, Wile E's up an running. His tail's a tad shorter and he looks pissed but ya got yourself no trophy today. Better luck next time!' He slapped me so hard across the back that I fell on top of the table."

Charlie shook his head and proceeded to tell Don about Jump School. The situation they were being sent into required that his training be accelerated more than just a little. "There was no time to build up to the hard stuff, big brother. I had to dive right into the deep end — literally." After he got the hang of static jumps, he found out exactly what HALO meant beyond the video game.

"It's an acronym; we have acronyms for every little thing. Military speak is worse than high school kids and text-speak. This particular one stands for High Altitude /Low Opening. It's also called an MFF, or military free fall. We call it something a little less polite. You jump at 25,000 to 35,000 feet and free fall, not opening your chute until the last possible second. I puked the first few jumps. I'm just glad I wasn't the guys around me! There is no margin for error in something like that. Unlike the game, if you screw up, you can't just respawn and do it over."

"Once, during training, Gus was unfortunate enough to get caught in a gust and miss the target area by a half a mile. He landed on top of an old out-house and since he's not a small man, he crashed all the way through to what lay beneath. We made him eat outside for a week." He chuckled, "On the mission, when we did that jump for real, my only thought was please god, don't let me land in anything nasty." Charlie laughed.

"I was really fortunate in the men I served with," he said thoughtfully. "They were pros Don, the elite of the elite. They kept me from breaking my neck more than once. I have to admit, they weren't real fond of me at first. I can come off as a bit … self-centered and I guess compared to them, I am rather spoiled, but eventually, I won them over. After all, who can resist this bright smile, these adorable curls and my winning ways for long," he said lightheartedly.

In truth, it had taken a near disaster to win over the men. In a few minutes time he not only gained the respect of those highly skilled and seasoned soldiers, he acquired a nickname. The men soon christened him 'crazy Doc. C.' And after that incident on that frigid morning, he had earned his place among them, he was accepted, he was finally — 'just one of the guys'.

"Mike personally drilled me in close quarter combat, fighting hand to hand, how to use other weapons such as knives, a bat or whatever the hell is available to defend myself. Over the years, I've become proficient in krav maga, kickboxing and combat sambo." he looked at his older brother. "I'm stronger than I look and I'm fast and agile. I've learned how to stay alive, Don, no matter what the situation."

"You know, it's kind of hard for me to picture my kid brother as some kind of black ops — Batman." the agent grinned. "I still remember when you got all teary eyed over that book about that dog."

Charlie rolled his eyes, "It was not the entire book; it was just the part about how much you can learn from an old dog that got to me. It made me think of Dad."

Don laughed, "I'm sure Dad would love to know you associated him with a dog that was so old and feeble he had to be put to sleep."

Charlie shrugged, blushing slightly.

For a long time Don said nothing then hesitantly he asked a question, not sure he wanted an answer, "Charlie, when you're away…?"

"Don," Charlie said, "I'm not you. My work doesn't require me to walk around with my Sig strapped to my hip, not unless I'm in a situation where it might be needed. Much of the time, my work is still all equations and computers."

"Much of the time — but not all of the time," Don said.

Charlie's silence said it all. Don bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second. "Buddy, I know you can't tell me a lot but … where you were, it was very bad, wasn't it?" He asked.

Charlie's eyes became distant for a moment, as if he was a million miles away. There was a look in his eyes; one Don had never seen before, a look that sent shivers down his spine.

…

_It seemed they had been running for weeks, though in reality, it had just been for hours. Earlier a sniper had taken another of their number and they were still reeling from the loss. Exhaustion began to set in and the plummeting temperatures and the altitude were taking a serious toll. The sun was quickly setting behind the mountains and that night, there would be no moon to light the way. None of them relished the thought of traversing those treacherous, narrow paths in the dark so they were looking for shelter even if only behind a boulder to block the cutting winds._

_Finally, when it seemed none of them could go on, they found a small cave in which to take refuge. They crawled inside huddling close together against the cold and the shock. After a short while, as the last of the daylight faded, the distant gunfire ceased and it became very quiet. There was almost no sound except the wind and their own breathing._

_Exhausted and aching from the subfreezing temperatures, Charlie closed his eyes hoping to grab a few minutes sleep when the silence was broken by Gus's voice softly whispering a child's prayer. 'Angel of God, my Guardian Dear, to whom God's love commits me here. Ever this day be at my side to light and guard and rule and guide.' _

_The large man saw the look in Charlie's eyes and he lifted his chin a little, "Maw Maw taught me that prayer when I was ten and would cry for my mom at night. She told me to say it whenever I was afraid or lonely and my angel would always come. I guess angels ain't nothing but fairy tales to man such as yourself but that don't matter none. My angel loves you too 'cause you're a good man, Doc, and she'll watch over ya anyways, even if ya don't believe. She led us to this cave, she'll get us home." _

_A dozen scientific counters for that bit of 'magical thinking' flew through Charlie's mind but he dismissed them all. If prayer and angels gave any of them solace, what harm did it do? They certainly had little else other than faith to see them through — and he didn't even have that. Sometimes being such a logical mathematician was a real pain in the ass._

_They would leave the safety of their cave at first light. They trudged on through two feet of ice encrusted snow, inching slowly forward, not knowing what lay ahead, but knowing they couldn't go back. Charlie knew the general direction of their objective and he also knew their chance of reaching it and of rescue was almost nonexistent. He kept that knowledge to himself. Telling the others they would all more than likely die soon served no purpose. They needed hope as much as they needed food and warmth. He let them keep their hope even if he had lost his._

_By sunset another of their little band would be lost and an emotionally numb Charlie wondered when his turn would come, how soon before the others would be forced to leave his body behind. For the briefest of moments, he wished that he, like all the other, like Gus, possessed the simple gift of faith._

…

For a moment, Charlie reflected on Gus and his almost child-like belief in guardian angels. If he thought the big guy was a bit over-zealous in his convictions, they were nothing compared to his beloved Maw Maw Holiday's. In her, Charlie found an unapologetic bastion of faith. Every Sunday without fail, she attended nine o'clock mass at Sacred Heart, right side, middle row. She had dozens of statues of saints and angels scattered throughout her tiny house.

Later, after he became one of her adopted 'young 'uns' Charlie discovered that whenever they were on a mission or traveling, she would turn all the statues to face the direction she believed they went. She said a novena for their safe return and lit a candle to St. Michael, the Archangel. She kept that candle burning until they returned — a beacon so her babies could always find the path home even from the darkest of places.

When they were finally rescued from that hell, Gus swore it was because Mike saw the glow from Maw Maw's candle from his helo, which was turning around, forced to give up the search because of a quickly approaching storm and bad visibility. And that it was his angel who gave the smallest of them, even though he had taken a hit in the back and was bleeding badly, the strength to lift the largest of them from the snow and get him to safety. His Maw Maw's prayers got them home.

Charlie, ever the scientist, knew they managed to get out of there because of satellite imagery, a gutsy rescue team, a stubborn Mike Donovan, dumb luck and adrenaline and not candles, angels and novena's, but still, rationality aside, he found the knowledge that the old lady watched over them, lit her candles and said her prayers, strangely comforting.

"Buddy, are you still with me?" Don's voice cut through his musing bringing him back into the present.

Charlie sighed. This was what he had been waiting for and dreading. Until that moment, he still had not made a decision as to how he was going to answer. He rose and walked to the rucksack he had brought with him to the party. Don had threatened to tear him a new one if he even considered working during his barbeque. He sat it on the bed and opened it. He looked at his brother for a second still not sure he wanted to do this then slowly he pulled out three battered, ragged, all but falling apart spiral notebooks. He walked to Don who was standing a few feet away. He lifted the notebooks holding them reverently in both hands.

"These are a few of the journals I kept during that time." his voice was a near whisper. "Some of the contents are boring day to day stuff. You know thoughts such as; just like in high school, almost everyone hates me, the food is bad, the tent is cold and wet, Steve is making me crazy — I miss my home and family," he smiled, "I dropped my I-Pod in the latrine. You know, the usual." He tenderly handed the notebooks to his brother. "But there's … just don't let anyone else see them, especially not Dad, and please, I need them back when I leave. They mean a lot to me. I think they may answer some of your questions."

Don carefully took the tattered books from his brother's trembling hands. "Charlie, this …you don't know how touched I am that you would trust me … I'll take care of them, little brother, and I'll make sure to give them back when you leave." He took a key and opened the drawer that contained his Glock and carefully placed the notebooks inside then he locked it and turned towards his bother.

"There's one other thing," Charlie reached in and pulled out a package, "I know you returned this to me years ago but, I was hoping maybe you wanted it back now."

Don took the package from Charlie and opened it. He sat on the bed, his hands resting on it. "The photograph album you gave me after that trip to Washington — you kept it," he said looking up at his younger brother. "Of course I want it Charlie. Not a day has gone by that I haven't regretted returning it to you the way I did. Thank you, thank you so much."

It was at that moment a sharp rap came at the door and Alan Eppes booming voice broke the solemn mood, "Are you boys okay?" he asked.

Don snickered shaking his head, "Yeah Dad we're fine. We're just talking about old times."

"Good, because David wants me to tell you two he's putting the rib eyes on the grill now and if you don't hurry, he's going to eat your share himself." Alan sounded relieved not to hear angry shouts emanating from behind the closed door.

Don and Charlie grinned. "Well, I guess our drinks do need replenishing and I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

"Agreed." Charlie said. "I could eat a horse."

Don sat the photograph album carefully on the dresser and the two brothers hurried downstairs to join the party.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. I had to break the ending into three parts because the guys just wouldn't stop talking.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part Two

Shortly after that decisive afternoon in Don's bedroom, Charlie received a call from Mike Donovan letting him know the situation had deteriorated and they would soon be leaving. There was no need for him to fly back to New York; they would leave directly from L.A.

Realizing he had no idea when he would get the chance to see them again, Charlie was determined to make every second of his remaining time with his family count. He took the girls to a doll exhibit at the museum and Justin to the planetarium. Afterwards, they had lunch with an old friend of his who was now head of the math department at CalSci.

He took everyone, his father included, to Disneyland where he discovered that despite all his skills in the field and jumping out of airplanes, the damned Tea Cup ride still made him queasy just as it had when he was a child.

He did his best to find something for everyone, even spending a harrowing afternoon sitting at a sticky table with his father and Don eating bad pizza, drinking watery soda and watching in astonishment as his nieces and nephews charged madly about with dozens of other children. They dove head first into multicolored plastic balls and disappeared up tubes of the brightest primary colors while a teenager in a mouse costume encouraged the chaos — all the while screaming at the top of their lungs.

All in all, he gave his family an exhausting but memorable two weeks. Of all the things they did and good times they had, for Charlie, the best moments of all were spent at the Craftsman where each night, the entire family convened, sometimes joined by one or more of the team, for dinner and he would continue the adventures of the brave pirate and his friends.

During that time, Don, Charlie and Robin did their best to pry Alan out of the kitchen as much as possible. Charlie told him he didn't want him to spend their brief time together cooking. They could get take-out or everyone could pitch in and bring something to share. Sometimes they succeeded but the older man was in his element and more often than not, he refused to be dissuaded.

Having his entire family gathered under one roof was the answer to a heart-felt prayer — a cause for celebration. To Alan, this meant good food prepared with his own loving hands. To him, his food was more than simple sustenance. It evoked memories of holidays and birthdays: of gatherings with dear friends, some now departed and family dinners at the close of a hectic workday. Food was among the things that tied them all together and it was his gift to those he loved and cherished.

On Charlies last night in town, Alan made the special lasagna and buttery, crusty garlic bread that he remembered his youngest son always loved so much. As in the past, the Eppes family sat around the table, hashing over the past two weeks, sharing a good meal, a bottle of Merlot and laughing.

Don reminded everyone of a near panicky mathematician when Robin handed their youngest to Charlie and took off for the kitchen to help Alan while Don ran up stairs to make sure the girls and Justin had started their homework.

…

_"Hey," Charlie shouted awkwardly holding the toddler, "guys, where's everybody going?" He stood at the foot of the stairs shouting, "I think he's going to start crying or something!" _

_"Charlie, just put some apple juice in his sippy-cup and get one of his toys out of the diaper bag. I'll be down in a minute." Don shouted back._

_"Sippy-cup, what the hell's a sippy-cup?" Charlie muttered under his breath then shouted again. "Yeah, speaking of the diaper bag, he might need changing." he sniffed and wrinkled his nose."No, make that he without doubt needs changing! Robin!Don, Dad, ANYONE — HELP!"_

…

"I thought you were going to break ranks and run when Robin told you to change him!" Don said finishing his dessert.

"Yeah well my sum total experience in taking care of children is herding Gus and Will around Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras." Charlie said taking a sip of coffee."To paraphrase an old movie_, I don't know nothin' about changing babies!" _He said.

Later he and the kids ran upstairs and crawled into the 'tent' they had fabricated not long after his arrival. He finished the story he had begun two weeks before, donning a pirate hat and plastic sword and throwing all his theatrical heart into the conclusion. Then, villains properly disposed of as heroes sailed off in search of new adventures — he kissed his nieces and nephew fondly and promised he would return as soon as he could. He stood and watched a little wistfully as his brother walked down the hall hand in hand with his beautiful family.

Alone in the room for the first time since his arrival, Charlie took a few minutes to look around. He found himself feeling nostalgic as he remembered the little boy who had grown up there and, for the briefest of moments, he missed his old life. It was then that he spotted the faded equation an eight-year-old Charlie had, very late one night, long after his bedtime, scribbled on the wall.

Alongside his own faded one — in ink that was still fresh and vibrant — was an equation scrawled by another hand. Charlie knew that little boy had taken his place in this room and — that was exactly as it should be. He turned his back on the specter of the child he used to be and closed the door.

He made his way downstairs to find his father turning off the television getting ready to retire for the night. The older man slid his arms around his youngest holding him very close for a few minutes.

"Son, it's been so wonderful having you here. I'm so glad you and Don…," his voice broke.

"So am I Dad," he hugged his father. "Dinner was perfect but you've got to be tired. You go get some rest. Don is spending the night so we can all have breakfast together in the morning before I leave."

"Goodnight, Charlie," he brushed back an errant curl. "Your mother would be so happy about this. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I'm not sure why." He kissed his son on the forehead. "Son, I know they're sending you away again, please just … a father should not have to bury his child."

"I'll be careful, Dad. Believe me dying young is not in my plans. I intend to drive Don nuts for a long time to come." Charlie smiled and gave his father another hug, "Goodnight," he said. "Do you need some help with the …?"

"I think I can manage. I'm not completely feeble just yet," Alan sounded a little miffed.

"Dad…" Charlie started to protest but was quickly rebuffed.

Alan Eppes lovingly cupped his son's chin in his hand. His voice softened, "You need a shave and maybe a trim. I see Donovan's spit n' polished Marine grooming has yet to rub off on you," he smiled, tenderly patted his boy's cheek and turned to go to bed.

Charlie laughed softly. _'The man will never change,'_ he thought and watched his father slowly make his way up the steep staircase gripping the banister tightly with hands whose knuckles were inflamed by the advanced arthritis that also affected his knees, hips and back.

The mathematician remembered a time not so long ago when his Dad charged up those same stairs with ease, taking them two at time, now he made the ascent cautiously, pausing midway to catch his breath.

The youngest Eppes man closed his eyes tightly against the sharp pain that pierced his heart as he again realized just how much his father had aged in recent years. Charlie opened his eyes, watching until he was sure the older man had made it safely to the top then he let out a heavy sigh and made his way to the kitchen.

The smell of his father's superbly prepared food still hung in the air. He poured himself a glass of wine, leaned against the counter, and looked around. The room had changed a little in the years he had been away. More energy efficient ones had replaced the old appliances and ceramic tiles replaced the old worn flooring but as for the rest, everything was exactly where it had always been for most of his life.

For a moment Charlie's mind flashed back to the dinner he and Mike had prepared for his family and friends all those years ago. That meal, like the one they had shared tonight, had been a celebration and gift of love. It was also one of the last good times he remembered having in the old house. Shortly after that, it all started to go to hell.

The mathematician quickly left the spotless kitchen. He hurried out the back door and down the stairs hitting the light switch as he went. He stood in the middle of the garage that had been so important to him once upon a time. Here as with much of the house, everything was the same and yet completely different.

When Charlie left home six years before, he left nothing of himself behind. Gone were his air hockey table, his black boards, and his desk — almost everything that made the place so inviting. His remaining possessions had been sent to Washington, donated, given away or tossed.

The few boxes Don kept stored at the Craftsman now had resided in his own garage and in the last year, their Dad had decided it was time to divest himself of much of his memorabilia and downsize his life.

The shelves, once chock full of Eppes family treasures were now, for the most part, empty except for a few boxes their dad couldn't bear to part with, some food for the koi, a half-empty paint can and the garden tools he and his mother had picked out and bought together.

The lone survivor in the campaign to annihilate their past was the worn, old wicker sofa. It now sat pushed against the wall, ignored for years and virtually forgotten by all except for the man who, in happier times, had often dozed on its shabby comfortable cushions after long sessions of running calculations for his brother or the NSA.

Charlie ran his hand over the hooks where he once hung his black boards and he pictured the old garage in its former glory. Now used mainly as a laundry room, it had once been a veritable hub of activity, second only to the dining room for being the heart of the house. Here he had worked on many a case for Don, spent many a happy hour with Larry, lost himself inside his own mind with the numbers he so loved. He had spent more time in the garage than he had his own room. Now all that made it comfortable was gone. It was simply a utilitarian garage and nothing more.

"Buddy, are you alright?" Charlie felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just remembering how much time I used to spend in here," he said looking around.

"If I needed you, I never had to look very far — CalSci or here you were usually one place or the other."

"Dad used to get so frustrated with me and my experiments. He swore I'd burn the house down one day. I tried to convince him that they were harmless, but you know Dad."

Don grinned. "Buddy, in his defense, you once knocked out the power to the entire block for over five hours — on Super Bowl Sunday no less —with one of your _harmless _experiments. We were just grateful nobody ever found out who the guilty party was. There might have been a hanging. In the end, a few innocent squirrels took the fall, as I recall. And what about a certain gerbil? I still haven't forgiven you for that one."

The younger man had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Well, at least I learned what _not _to do. In science, even negative results are results."

Don laughed then an uncomfortable silence fell between them. For lack of a better place to put his eyes, Don gazed at the condensation-covered beer bottle in his right hand. When his genius brother kid brother grew pensive, he could never be sure if it was a good sign or a bad.

Among all his other qualities, Charlie had always been subject to sudden shifts in mood. Their parents, especially their mother, could always tell if he was simply working through a problem in his head or on the verge of a full-fledged sulk that could last for days. He on the other hand, never quite got the knack of reading his kid brother so deftly.

Charlie took a sip of his wine and heaved a heavy sigh. "Want to go out to the patio? It's a nice night," he said.

"Sure, sounds great," Don said walking towards the door with Charlie shuffling silently at his side.

They settled down on the Adirondack chairs near the rose bushes. There was a small table in between them for their drinks and they could see the koi pond and the crescent moon hanging low in the midnight blue sky. For at least twenty minutes, neither of them said one word. Don's eyes scanned the garden, the parked cars, even the streetlights casting shadows on the curved driveway. He cut his eyes towards his brooding kid brother several times hoping for improvement but seeing none.

Finally deciding it was up to him to break the somber mood, Don cleared his throat. "So," he said at last, "how about those Bears?"

Maybe it was the inappropriateness of the remark but suddenly Charlie rejoined him on planet Earth. "Bears, what bears? There are bears in Pasadena? Did they come in from the mountains? Dad didn't mention bears!"

"No buddy," Don chortled, "The Chicago Bears, you know — football."

"Oh…well, I don't know, still in Chicago I assume. We can look them up on the internet if you have a question. My laptop is …"

"Charlie!" an amused Don reached over and punched his brother's upper arm. "That is a rhetorical question! I was just trying to bring you back to the land of the living. Come on, don't get like this. It's your last night in town. Let's just enjoy it."

"Sorry, you're right of course. I guess I sort of spaced out there for a while. I was just thinking about the house and the garage and how much fun we had here, remember?"

Now Don grew thoughtful as the memories began to surface. Soon the two brothers were jabbering away, simultaneously at times, as they spoke of the years long past and the words '_Remember the time'_ were oft repeated.

A few of the memories were bittersweet or sad but mostly they wound up laughing and shaking their heads at the ridiculous things one or the other of them pulled. Usually if there was mischief afoot, Don was the culprit, but once or twice, the younger Eppes brother stepped up to the plate and surpassed even his older brother in the fine art of humiliating his shocked parents.

"Charlie, remember Aunt Irene's birthday when you were nineteen? I guess Dad had gotten on her last nerve when he knocked over a glass of champagne and she very loudly announced that dear Margaret could have done so much better and Alan's ham-fisted lack of grace and lack of couth was going to send her to an early grave and you…" Don snorted, "you piped up and loudly announced that taking into consideration the average lifespan for Caucasian-American females of her generation, an early grave was no longer possible."

"God, did I stir up a hornet's nest with that one." Charlie rubbed his face. "I thought I would never hear the end of it. Mom was furious with me for weeks. I knew it was wrong but Aunt Irene pissed me off. She never missed an opportunity to put Dad down right in front of us and this time, I just couldn't let it go by without doing something."

"I cannot tell you how proud I was of you that night. My gentle, sweet, always so polite little brother zinged one off the matriarch of the Mann clan in front of the entire damned family and her friends. I'd never seen that woman so stunned or so quiet before or since! I salute you, little brother," Don lifted his beer to his brother.

"Mom and Dad may have acted like they were mad at you but later, after you went to sleep, the three of us laughed our asses off about it." He leaned over and whispered. "Mom had to pretend to be mad because of that whole parent thing but she was secretly so proud of you for standing up for Dad that about a month later she bought you that new top of the line computer you'd been drooling over and you, the great and amazing mathematician, never put two and two together."

Charlie smiled meekly, "I was not incorrect you know. Aunt Irene was hardly middle-aged as she claimed since humans do not live to be one hundred and forty years old." Both of them burst out laughing remembering their great aunt and missing the snappish old lady who had died several years before.

It was at that moment that Don noticed both his beer and his brother's wine needed refilling. He excused himself for a moment and rushed to the kitchen. When he returned, Charlie was standing by the koi pond staring down into the water watching the fish swirl and splash in the moonlight.

"Whoa," he handed his brother the glass, "you're not getting all morose again are you?"

"No, I was just thinking about ... things."

"Come on, Charlie!" Don said.

"Don — I was thinking about Dad."

Don sighed. He knew where this was going. "Yeah buddy, I know. He's really feeling his age these days."

Watching one's parents' age is never easy. Intellectually you know growing old is only a part of life. But the reality of seeing the man who carried you on his shoulders, and lifted you up to the sky playing elevator; the man who ran beside you teaching you to ride a bike or throw a ball and taught you to swim, the man you once believed to be as strong and as invincible as Superman and as wise as Solomon, grow frail was agonizing. And the first time you realize he no longer clearly remembers part of your childhood, your heart literally breaks.

"Don, I think living here is too much for him. I have to help him get food out of the oven. Once he left a dishtowel on the stove and nearly started a fire. He complains constantly about the stairs and …"

"I know. I tried to get him to move to the room downstairs but arthritis or not, he's still hard-headed. I'm terrified he's going to fall and break his hip — or his neck," Don hung his head for a second.

"Charlie, for the most part, Dad is amazing. He's still very active in the community and with his grandchildren but he has health problems and well, this house is just so huge for one man." Don paused for a second.

"Buddy, as much as he loves and enjoys the kids, Dad gets lonely for people his own age and lately he's been talking about moving into the condos where Art lives. They have a first rate golf course and as you know that's just another word for heaven to Alan Eppes and he'll still be able to spend time with his grandchildren. A lot of his friends live there including a couple of lady friends who seem to have quite a thing for our father." Don smiled.

"Charlie — I know neither of us wants to think about it but … this place has also assisted living available if it becomes necessary." He paused for a moment. "I think it would be good for Dad to make the move. I think he'll be happier."

"Yeah, he told me about his plans. I suggested I could provide a live-in companion for him but the thought of a stranger living in the house …, I can't tell you how much Dad didn't like that idea or how loudly he expressed his disapproval. I agree that moving close to his friends would be the best thing for him." Charlie turned and looked back at the Craftsman. "It's a beautiful house, isn't it?"

"It certainly is." Don laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, "This house misses you, little brother, and the koi miss you."

"Don, koi have a memory span of about thirty seconds and anyway, these are not even the same fish as when I lived here, and a house cannot miss anyone. It's not alive."

"I seem to recall you waxing poetic about ghosts and old houses having …"

"I was drunk and so were you so I refuse to concede to the accuracy of your memory of the event," Charlie interjected.

Don snickered and shook his head. Then his eyes lit up and he decided that moment was as good as any to broach the subject that had been in the back of his mind for weeks now, ever since New York.

"Hey, I've got a brilliant idea," he said hopefully,"why don't you move back in. The kids would be thrilled and to be honest, so would I. We've all missed you. The team asks about you all the time. I know you love this house. It seems like the perfect solution to me."

Charlie looked up at the sky for a second. It was such a beautiful, typical California night. He thought about his brother's suggestion and for a brief moment, he entertained the idea. It would be so easy to take three giant steps backwards and settle into his old life. He could probably even get on at CalSci but at that very instant, as if the god's were sending him a message, a meteor streaked across the dark expanse and disappeared into the distance then another followed and another. He sighed.

"You're right, I do love this house, big bro, I'll always love this house but … I'll never live here again … my life is elsewhere now. That Charlie, the one who called this place home, he only comes around every once in a while when the wind is from the right direction and the planets align just so, besides," he smiled, "I love my life in the City, I love my crazy building and all its mad as a hatter inhabitants."

"I can understand that. I guess you don't see too many hot girls rip off their tops and toss them over the terrace in this neighborhood," Don smirked remembering New Year's Eve. "But, I just …I don't want you to be alone, buddy."

He took a step closer to Charlie. "You know, you're not exactly decrepit. You still could meet someone, fall in love and have a couple of kids. You've always said this is a great house in which to raise a family."

Charlie slipped his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Don, you have a great life, a wonderful life — _for you_. As for me well," he squeezed his brother's shoulders, "Let me explain it this way, when Mike calls and says there's fresh powder in Aspen, I just pack my bags, grab my board and go. I can take off for as long as I like and not have to answer to anyone."

"My work keeps me either on the road for months or locked up in my office for days and weeks at a time. I have dinner when I want, I eat what I want or not at all." Charlie took a deep breath. "Next summer, while you and Robin are taking the kids to Yosemite, the guys and I might be walking the Great Wall of China or hacking our way through a rain forest or hell … climbing K2, I don't know, but we won't be on anyone else's schedule or answering to anyone other than ourselves."

"Wait one damned minute, you'll be climbing WHAT?" Don interrupted "K2! Isn't that sort of like climbing Everest?"

"Well, it's not quite as high."

"But it's far more dangerous! Charlie, I saw a special on that mountain on Discovery a couple of weeks ago! They call it Savage Mountain because of the fierce climate, the treacherous terrain —_**and**_ the fact that one in every four people who attempt to reach the summit dies trying!"

"Don, lighten up! We're not climbing K2, not for a couple of years anyway." Charlie laughed at his brother's stunned expression. "It was just an example of how my life is not exactly wife and kids oriented."

But Don was not about to _'lighten up_'. "Charlie, are you out of your rabbit-assed mind? Didn't you have a near fatal bout with pneumonia a couple of years ago? I know that had to have left scarring on your lungs. You do know what Altitude Sickness is don't you?"

"Probably better than you," Charlie said. "If we do climb it, we'll use oxygen. We're crazy but we're not insane."

Don put his arm around his brother's neck and leaned his head against Charlie's, "No, I forbid it! I absolutely forbid…"

"You don't think that's actually going to work, do you?"

"No, but I had to try," Don said releasing his brother. "I wish you would just take normal vacations to Vegas or Maui instead of all this adventure crap." Don said softly. "You should stop all of this, buddy. You should … find someone and … I've watched you with my kids. You'd make a wonderful father."

"I like to believe that I would have made a _spectacular_ dad but that part of my life — that part of my life is — gone now. I've moved on." He held up his hand before his older brother could interrupt. "Don, I've stood in some of the most remote, beautiful places on the face of the earth, places few ever get to see firsthand or would want to because remote places make great photos but are hell to get to."

"I travel the world and then I come home and play the responsible mathematician, the responsible writer, but sooner or later I'll get urge to be someplace else — someplace wild and I'll just pack my bags go." His eyes were all but glowing as he spoke.

Don tried to picture what would be like to be able to chuck everything any time you wanted, to have nothing and no one encumbering you. He wondered what it would be like to have no demanding federal job, no wife and kids, nothing to keep you tied to one place.

For a second he almost envied his brother his absolute freedom. Then he realized he loved all those things that kept him chained. He loved the Bureau, his family and friends. He looked forward to coming home every night to the same old house and sleeping in the same old bed, watching the news and falling asleep with his wife in his arms. He would enjoy freedom for about a day and a half, and then he would miss all that, for him, made life worth living. He would be miserable in Charlie's life — and perhaps Charlie would be miserable in his.

"Buddy, I think you're going to be a very —interesting — uncle. You're going to be my kids, I don't know…Auntie Mame."

"What the hell, Don!" Charlie laughed.

"Hey, it's better than the alternative. Once upon a time, I used to think of you as the Annie Hall of mathematicians. No one else in the world could have pulled off your look and gotten away with it."

"You're such an asshole, big bro!" They both laughed.

For a while, neither of them spoke then Don broke the silence. "So, what are you going to do with the house? Dad wants to make this move as soon as possible."

"I don't know." Charlie said. "It's not an easy decision. I could keep it and rent it out but that's just too much trouble. Letting it sit vacant is an open invitation to vandals and squatters." He looked down for a second. "My only other choice is to sell it. I mean, it's worth a lot of money and…" he looked up at his brother, narrowing his dark eyes, "Hey — now _I'm_ getting a brilliant idea! You said you were looking for a bigger place, well, this is a bigger place. I bought the house from Dad. You could carry on the tradition and buy it from me."

"Charlie, I also told you that, considering property values, I couldn't afford a bigger place right now and I _REALLY_ can't afford this house."

"David told me he wants to buy your old place if you decide to sell. He'll offer you market value and he's got the cash up front so that's not an issue."

"Yeah, but that would give me maybe a third of what this house is worth and I really don't want a mortgage right now." Don shook his head.

"Well, just keep it in mind. I mean it could be perfect for your needs. It's a little closer to both your jobs, close to the condo Dad wants to buy and only about ten minutes further from the kid's school. I love the place, but I have so much on my plate right now, I don't think I can keep it." Charlie seemed to be thinking, "Look, if I offered you a deal, would you consider it then?"

Don rolled his eyes in exasperation. His brother could never take no for an answer. "What would you consider a deal? Even if you took off ten percent, it's still too much. Charlie, I can't even pay you what you paid Dad and I know it's worth far more than that now."

"Humm," Charlie walked away and looked wistfully at the house everyone, himself included, spoke of as magic. "What would I consider a deal? How about … $74.00 and a coupon for Buffalo Wild Wings?"

Don choked on his beer, sputtered, wiped his chin with the back of his hand and looked totally nonplused.

"That's what you have in your wallet. I lifted it and returned it during dinner. My training taught me more than just how to shoot and fight." Charlie said softly. "I can also pick any lock out there. We don't always want people to know we're coming."

Don stood beside his brother. "You're giving me your house?" He asked dumbfounded. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, officially I'm selling it to you for $74.00 and a Wild Wings coupon." Charlie smiled. "I just can't see anyone other than an Eppes living here and since I …"

"I have to check with Robin, Charlie. I can't just unilaterally make a decision like that."

"Robin loves the idea. She loves this house, though she wants to make some changes. The only thing I ask is that the koi pond stays and Mom's roses, the one's she and I planted together, besides that, it's her home to do with as she chooses."

Now it was Don's turn to narrow his eyes, "You did it again, didn't you? You made an end run around me to get your own way."

"I guess I did!" Charlie lifted his eyebrows and grinned. "Now, if it's a deal, you owe me $74.00 and the coupon. I do like those hot wings."

Shaking his head, the agent took the contents of his wallet and handed it to his younger brother.

"I'll have my lawyer draw up the paperwork in a way that you don't get killed on the taxes," Charlie stuffed the money in his pocket and held out his hand, "Congrats, Don, you just bought yourself a house."

"Charlie, I …how do I thank you?" Don took his brother's hand and shook it.

"We'll see if you want to thank me when you see how much this place costs to run," he smirked. "I've paid all the expenses up to now but once those papers are signed … wait until you see what the property taxes are ; and oh yeah, wait until Robin tells you her plans. The most expensive rooms to renovate are the kitchen and bathrooms you know. Here's a hint, think granite countertops, new cabinets, a whirlpool and go from there."

Don couldn't think of a response. He was still too stunned. Impulsively he pulled his brother into his arms, hugging him tightly. It was a spontaneous move, one he made before he considered the fact that Charlie might not welcome his embrace.

He felt his younger brother's body stiffen and before he could pull away, Don took a chance and tightened his grasp. It was a gamble that paid off. Charlie's body relaxed and slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Don and rested his head on his older brother's strong shoulder.

"I love you, you know," Don said. "There will always be a place for you here. This is your home Charlie; this will always be your home."

Charlie squeezed his eyes tightly shut. It was over now. He had given away the last remnant of his old life and there was nothing left. He could at least take great comfort in the fact that the home he cherished would not fall to strangers, as he feared— that his brother and his family would make it their home; that its halls would be filled with love and laughter and they would make their own memories here. This house needed Eppes children within its walls and if it could feel joy, he knew the old place would be ecstatic.

A few minutes passed and Don released Charlie. They sank to ground sitting cross-legged in front of the koi pond as they had many times before. For a long time, they didn't speak. The mathematician could tell his brother had something on his mind, something having nothing to do with their father or houses. Charlie knew there was no use in pushing so he waited patiently letting Don gather his courage and decide how he wanted to approach the matter. Finally, when the tension had built to point that you could almost cut it with a knife, he broke the silence.

"Charlie," he whispered in a hoarse voice, "I put your journals in the top drawer of the dresser so you can pack them. I … I read them and I … I don't know …"

The younger man looked away for a second feeling his brother's fingers fold around his wrist.

"I knew it was bad but I never … I don't know how you survived, buddy!"

"Sometimes I wonder if we did," Charlie said. "There are times when it seems like we're still there. Some nights … it's hard to put into …"

Those words turned Don's blood cold. "Charlie …"

Charlie blinked a few times. "When it gets really tough, when any of us are having a hard time, we know we can call each other even if it's the middle of the night." A small smile touched his lips. "It usually is the middle of the night when the ghosts come out to play. We call each other and we talk, we just talk." he sighed. "We deal Don, we can't do much else. It's either that or wind up like Gary."

"Gary — he's the one who …"

"Yeah, he's the one who…" Charlie sighed. "We all take turns spending time at the hospital. I saw him a couple of days ago."

"How's he doing?" Don asked remembering that sweltering day on the over-pass.

"Still fighting the war but then we all are to some degree. For Gary, it's just far more real. The rest of us, we can tell the nightmares from reality — well, most of the time anyway. We've all found ways to get by. Some of us have music and art. Some build things with our hands." He shrugged, "Some of us write stupid adventure stories, take photos and try to solve the world's problems with algorithms and complicated equations."

"I wonder who that could be?" Don said moving beside his brother and slipping his arm around his shoulder.

"I think it's Gus." Charlie said jokingly.

"Charlie," Don pulled his brother closer. "I'm very grateful to your friends for taking care of you the way they have and as for Donovan, there is no way I can ever repay him for all he's done but …" he took Charlie's hand in his, "you know … looking after you was my job before it was his. Maybe I'd like part of that job back. Maybe Donovan and I can … you know share custody."

"Ahhh Don," Charlie said slowly his eyes wide, "have you been sneaking beers behind my back 'cause I didn't think we'd had that much to drink."

"God, Charlie, you idiot, I'm not drunk! I'm trying to tell you that, if you ever need someone even if it's the middle of the night, I'm available." Don said squeezing the hand resting in his, "I'm trying to say that … I want to be your big brother again."

Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "I'm not sure. I know we've resolved a lot of our problems and I think we can become closer but …"

"But, what buddy? Tell me what you need for me to do."

Charlie glanced back at the house, "Don, how can I be sure you won't …" he sniffed. "Can you accept me the way I am? Can you accept that …I can't always be where or who you want me to be? There will be times when I won't be able to contact you for weeks or maybe months at a stretch. Can you accept that? I didn't say you had to like it, you just have to accept it." He squeezed his bothers hand.

Don nodded. "Yeah, Charlie, I can accept all of that if _you_ can accept that I'll always worry about you, I'll always try to give you advice, I'll always try to look out for you and tell you when I think you're screwing up, I'll always be your big brother … and an annoying mother hen, like it or not." Don smiled, "And every time I get a chance, I'll tell you that you need to settle down, get married and have kids."

"Oh god, it's happened, you're turning into Dad!" Charlie gasped and both men laughed.

"Charlie," Don added, "I want, no, I _need_ you back in my life. I want to be your big brother again, if you'll let me. What do you say?"

"I guess we can give it a try," the younger man whispered then after a brief silence. "Don, when I leave here, I'm going to be gone for a while …"

Charlie saw the look that passed over his brother's face. "This one is going to be a fairly quick surgical strike in, achieve our objective and we'll be home in time for Maw Maw's 100th birthday party." he smiled picturing Gus's diminutive tough, foster mom.

"The woman is amazing. She calls me her little 'un or her baby boy. She taught me to shoot trap, skeet and sporting clays. Even at her age, she still runs the counter at the outfitters and barks orders at those men at the docks. If they give her any guff as she calls it, she grabs her Mossberg and they all scatter."

Don smiled then in a voice full of concern. "Charlie is this going to be one of those times when you stay relatively safe and run equations or …"

The look on his brother's face answered that question and he looked down, "Just promise me you'll keep your ass and your curly head down. We're just getting back together. I don't want to lose you now."

"I promise." Charlie said. "Don, you said that if there's anything you can do for me, I should just ask. Did you mean that?"

"Of course I meant it. Just name it, buddy. I'll do anything I can for you."

"Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure you meant that?" Charlie turned his dark eyes on his brother.

"Charlie, I swear I …" Don's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute; did I just take the bait and walk straight into a trap?"

"You took the bait like a starving bunny goes after a carrot," Charlie laughed. "No seriously, it would mean the world to me if … my two families could come together. I love all of you and I think if you give each other a chance …"

"Wow, Charlie," Don stammered, "I know I said I'd do anything but … Couldn't you ask for something easier like say… a trip to the Mars or a date with a super model?"

"Don, I dated a super model. It didn't work. She was about a head taller than me in her stocking feet and _**almost**_as high maintenance and neurotic as I am," he said.

"Look, the guys aren't wild about the idea either but they are willing to at least try. Will has given me permission to invite all of you to stay at the ranch for a week this summer. Believe me, that's an honor bestowed on very few. It would be a great experience for the kids. There are horses to ride and all kinds of outdoor things to do. We can go camping and have a hayride. It's also a preserve and they can see the animals and learn a few things along the way."

He touched his brother's arm. "You were complaining about the kids spending too much time with computers and electronic things well here is an all expense paid chance to have some healthy if tacky, old-west, outdoor fun. What do you say?"

"I'll have to check with … but you've already cooked something up with Robin haven't you?" At the unconvincingly innocent look on Charlie's face, Don threw up his hands in surrender, "Fine, we'll go. I swear the two of you are going to give me high blood pressure with your … alliance."

Charlie grinned. "Great. You'll have a good time, I promise."

Don just snorted and looked away.

The two bothers sat quietly for a while watching the night move around them. "You know big brother, its been kind of a strange seven years." Charlie very quietly said.

"Yeah, it really has," Don answered.

Charlie yawned and stretched. "Did you ever tell Robin about the ladies and the New Year's Eve party?"

"I thought it best not to mention it." Don said quickly.

"That's probably wise," Charlie sighed. "I'm pretty sure Robin can take you."

The agent slowly turned his head until he was facing his little brother who was looking at the moon softly singing an old Lady Gaga song to himself. Rolling his eyes in consternation, Don then turned his gaze forward and heaved a heavy resigned sigh.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. I had to break the ending into four parts because the guys just wouldn't stop talking.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part Three

"If that absent-minded brother of mine has forgotten to pick us up, I swear I will wring his scrawny little neck," Don Eppes muttered for the third time as Charlie's phone once again went straight to voice mail.

The exhausted agent took a deep breath and let it out with a huff. As he shifted his sleeping baby to his other shoulder, he glanced at his travel weary family. _'And going on the list of things to be avoided if at all possible — air travel with four small children,' _ he thought.

This latest addition to his ever-growing list was going at the very top directly above remembering to never let his wife know he had noticed her friend's very obvious breast implants and to never, _ever_ remark on them no matter how much the woman was flaunting them.

He leaned back in the molded plastic chair and closed his eyes for a second. It had been a long day and he was tired beyond tired. Charlie had very generously arranged for first class tickets but their flight left at seven AM and getting four children up, dressed and out the door before the sun came up proved to be an ordeal.

David was fussy and crying; he was a baby wakened from a sound sleep so that was to be expected. Justin and his sisters squabbled nonstop from the moment they opened their eyes. Finally, their aggravated mother told the surly boy that if he didn't react to their teasing, the girls would get bored with their game and leave him alone.

She then turned her stern eyes on the twins, ordering them to stop tormenting their brother immediately or they would spend their entire vacation babysitting David and not riding horses or playing cowgirl.

As they laboriously made their way through the labyrinth of flying in the age of terrorism, Robin turned and informed her husband that she hoped this trip to visit _his _brother on some ranch in the middle of nowhere in a state that had more cows than people was worth all the trouble they were going through.

Don almost opened his mouth to remind Robin that _she _had conspired with Charlie to get him to agree to this vacation in the first place — that their situation was far more her doing than his — he _almost_ opened his mouth. However, his years of marriage had taught him that there are times when it's far better to simply bite your tongue and keep your thoughts to yourself. _This_ was most assuredly one of those times.

After retrieving Amanda's doll from a gift shop where she left it sitting on a counter and after triggering no small amount of mayhem with airport security when Amy piped up to proudly announce her Daddy also carries a gun, they reached their gate with no time to spare.

As they prepared to board, Don caught a glimpse of his image reflected in the glass and was more than a little taken aback. The man who always boasted of his skills in traveling light was struggling with carry-on bags for six, toys to keep his children entertained during the flight and David's car seat while he tried to herd three kids who wanted to go in any direction except the correct one and holding a screaming baby.

_'My God, I've become one of __**them**__!' _He thought and silently sent out a humble apology to every adult with children at whom he had cast a disparaging eye over the years. _'I guess what goes around, really does come around, ' _he thought as he and Robin got their family settled in their seats, ignoring the glares from passengers all around them.

At last, with all the children safely buckled in, Don assumed they would probably nod off allowing him and Robin a chance to relax but no such luck was to come their way.

When the girls first heard that they were going to spend a week on a real ranch with real horses they had been thrilled and they were excited about their first ride on an airplane — that is until their friends filled their heads with stories about plane crashes. As a result of these aviation horror stories, when the jet engines rumbled to life, the girls began to tremble and whimper.

By the time the jet sped down the runway and the wheels went up, they were crying louder than David. However, with the comforting words of their parents and an understanding flight attendant, they eventually calmed down. Soon they were looking out the window, drawing pictures in their book and giggling together.

Finally, and not a minute too soon for the harried Eppes couple, the plane touched down in Great Falls, MT. After having gotten up before dawn and then spending hours mediating squabbles between Justin and the girls and trying to quiet a fussy baby, Don had a tremendous headache and the typically cool and composed Robin looked like she was ready to kill him for dragging them on this trip to begin with.

Don and Robin waited for the other passengers to deplane then they divided the carry-on bags and the children between them, and hurried from the now empty aircraft. Judging from the acerbic looks shot their way by the flight attendants, the agent doubted they were going to be missed. In fact, he imagined unflattering tales of their family would be related at more than one dinner table that night.

Entering the busy concourse, Don began a fruitless visual search for his younger brother. Not spotting him among the rushing throng, he reached in his pocket for his cell phone and made the first of several calls while Robin persuaded the children to sit, promising them they would soon be on their way. Don was beginning to get really angry when Justin suddenly jumped up and pointed.

"There he is!" The boy took off before either of his exhausted parents could stop him. "Uncle Charlie!" He shouted reaching out his arms as he dashed towards the mathematician.

Hey pal!" Charlie dropped a shopping bag he was carrying and knelt, wrapping his arms around his nephew, "You shouldn't take off and leave your Daddy and Mommy like that," he said giving the little boy a kiss on the cheek, "but it's great to see you!"

Soon the girls joined their brother, the two of them rushing into Charlie's arms with such vigor they nearly knocked their uncle over, "Daddy said he was going to wring your scrawny neck if you forgot to pick us up so I'm glad you came!" Amanda exclaimed.

"Did he now?" Charlie looked up at his embarrassed brother. "Well, in that case, I'm glad I made it. How was your first airplane ride?"

"We were scared 'cause Tim Barrett told us the plane might go upside down but it didn't," Amy said.

"And he said the wings might fall off if it got too bumpy but they didn't, Uncle Charlie," Amanda gave her uncle another hug.

"Humm, sounds like you shouldn't listen to Tim Barrett," Charlie said then glanced up again, "Of course, when I was little, your Dad told me the black sheep in the petting zoo might follow me home and kidnap me since my hair made me look like one of their lambs."

"You were so gullible," Don said with a grin. "It's good to see you, buddy," he added when his younger brother stood up.

"You too," Charlie said giving his sister in-law a kiss on the cheek and his brother a quick, awkward handshake and hug. "I'd ask how your flight was but I can guess the answer to that question," he said with a quick laugh as his eyes took in the disheveled pair.

"Hey," he again turned his attention to the excited children, "I brought gifts for all of you."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a pink cowboy hat for each of the girls and a black one for Justin. Then he reached into the bag again and pulled out a fourth hat. This one was bright red and obviously made for a small child with the words —_Jr. G-man_ — embroidered across the front.

Before he could be stopped, Charlie popped the hat on Don's head to the delight of his wife and children and before the agent could remove it, he took a photograph of it with his cell phone.

"I think this will go straight on Facebook," Charlie chuckled. "Grainger will love this one."

"And I think I might kick your …!" Don hissed but glancing at his kids, he failed to complete his threat.

He grabbed the hat from his own head and placed it on his youngest son's. "I think it's time we picked up the luggage, don't you — little brother?" He said then froze as he spotted the three men standing a few feet behind Charlie. "I didn't realize you brought the entire entourage," he said narrowing his eyes.

"Will had some business in town which is why we're a little late," Charlie explained. "I was fairly sure you were going to bring a lot of bags so we brought the big van and he won't let me drive it anymore."

"That's 'cause ya backed it into the danged barn twice in one day," Gus laughed.

"It was only a tap! I barely scratched the paint. It's not like I knocked down a wall or anything," Charlie said looking back at the big man with a frown then he turned to make the introductions. "Kids, these are my friends. The one with all the muscles and almost no hair is Uncle Mike; the tall, thin one with blond hair is Uncle Will. He owns the ranch you're going to stay at and the really big guy with the shaggy black hair and the Hank III tee shirt is Uncle Gus. Gentlemen, this is Justin, Amy, Amanda and the little one with the shy grin laying his head on Don's shoulder is David. I think everyone else knows each other."

The girls giggled and Justin walked up and with a very proper, "It's very nice to meet you," shook hands with each of his uncle's friends.

"And it's nice to meet you too, young man," Will gently shook the boy's hand then he turned towards the others. "I'm not meaning to be pushy but we have a long drive ahead of us. Mrs. Perry is cooking a special dinner tonight and she gets grumpy if we're late so if we could head to baggage claim …"

…

It was nearly one in the afternoon by the time they loaded the bags in the van and hit the road. The distrust and antipathy that existed between Don and his brother's closest friends was obvious even though not one angry word was uttered by any of them. In fact, despite Charlie's best efforts at initiating a conversation between the four men, they all chose to remain frostily silent.

The tension between the opposing factions seemed to grow exponentially as the miles passed. Charlie tried in vain to ease some of the anxiety by almost frantically pointing out places of interest along the way and cracking a joke or two — none of which helped in the least. Even the children began to sense there was a problem between their daddy and Uncle Charlie's friends because they became quiet for the first time that day.

They had been on the road for a little more than two hours. The enmity between the men showed no sign of getting any better. Charlie — realizing there was nothing he could say to improve things — abdicated his role as peacemaker. He wordlessly stared out the window his shoulders slumped in week had not even begun and he was already losing hope.

"Uncle Charlie," the voice came from directly behind him.

"Yes, Justin," Charlie said softly.

"Before we left Papa gave me a book about Albert Einstein. He said it used to belong to you when you were little. I brought it with me to read on the plane. I'd like to talk with you about it later if you have the time."

"I always have to time to discuss Albert Einstein," Charlie smiled. "You know, he left some equations on the wall of the steam tunnels at CalSci. I still have some pull there. I can give you the tour the next time I'm in Pasadena."

"That would be epic!" Justin seemed genuinely excited.

Charlie nodded in agreement. '_It's a sad state of affairs_,' he thought, _'when the most mature man within fifty miles is seven years old." _

After another thirty minutes they exited the interstate and turned on to a four-lane that cut across large expanses of nothing interspersed with white clapboard houses, fences and cattle…lots and lots of cattle. Soon they left the highway behind for a two-lane asphalt road — and more cattle. Will drove for another forty-five minutes before he abruptly pulled the van off the road and stopped in front of a small frame building hitting the brakes hard enough to skid a few feet sending gravel and dust flying into the air.

"This is Margie's," he said as he shoved open the driver's side door avoiding eye contact with all except Gus. "It doesn't look like much but it's sort of a local landmark. You can't visit here without stopping for some of Margie's hand-churned ice cream and you have to pet Darby's nose and feed him some carrots and an apple. That's practically a law in these parts."

"Who's Darby?" Justin asked as he climbed from the van.

"Darby's a big gray gelding. He's a little too old to ride any more but he loves attention and he loves to have his nose petted, especially by kids," Mike said smiling at the boy. "Come on, I'll buy you each a cone and you can meet him." He glanced at Robin who nodded her permission. He helped the girls from the van and Gus took David from his car seat, resting him on his hip as if he carried small children every day.

Charlie led his brother and his sister in-law to a picnic table under a tree. Before they could even sit down, a girl of about nineteen came from the house with a tray of coffee cups, a carafe, a cow shaped pitcher filled with fresh cream and packets of both real sugar and artificial sweetener. She had thick, red, shoulder length hair, long legs and cornflower blue eyes. Her shirt left nothing to the imagination and her jeans fit her like a second skin.

"Charlie, Mama said to bring this to you and your quests," she purred. As she served the coffee, she _accidentally_ brushed up against the mathematician more than once. Leaning close, she swept her hair back behind one ear.

"Thanks, Angie," an uncomfortable Charlie said trying not to look at the girl but she was making it all but impossible.

"Well, just shout if you need anything else." Angie seemed disappointed not to have elicited more of a positive reaction from her intended prey. She turned and walked away, hips swaying as she moved sending out an unmistakeable message.

"She seems … nice," Robin said with an amused smile. "I think she's interested in you."

"Yeah I know, but Angie is … well," he cleared his throat, "far too young for me — and she has three really, really big brothers."

Don shook his head and stirred sugar into his coffee. He sat for a few minutes gazing into the dark, steaming liquid. He glanced at his brother then he looked out across a vast field.

It was very a quiet afternoon. Unlike L.A., there was almost no traffic beyond a couple of pickup trucks and a few horseback riders. Don looked down into his coffee cup again and frowned. He was aware of Charlie's eyes on him — aware his brother was waiting for what he was going to say next.

"Look Charlie, maybe this isn't the best time for this," he said at last. "Maybe we should change our reservations and leave…," It was at that moment that his daughters came charging up to the table as fast as their legs could carry them with the three men and Justin following at a much slower pace.

"Mommy, you have to meet Darby! He's this really sweet horse. He'll let you pet him and you can feed him carrots right out of your hand and his nose is so soft Mommy, just like velvet! He's wonderful!" A breathless Amanda grabbed her mother's hand and pulled, "Come on … you too Daddy! We still have some carrots Miss Margie gave us to feed him and…"

"Girls, calm down," Robin said gently. "Mommy, Daddy and Uncle Charlie are talking." She glanced at her brother in-law and she could see he was hurt and what was worse, Mike, Will and Gus could see their friend was upset and they were instantly on guard.

"Uncle Charlie," Justin said, "Uncle Will says he has a helicopter and planes at his house and that he can teach me the math he uses when he flies." His calm voice belied his excitement at the prospect.

"That's great, Justin. Uncle Will's an excellent pilot. He can teach you a lot," Charlie said in a steady voice. All the hopeful exuberance from earlier had faded to nothing.

Mike, Will and Gus — their eyes locked on Don's — took a step forward.

It was then Robin saw the hard look on her husband's face. She knew that look well. Don generally reserved it for suspects or insubordinate young agents who hadn't quite learned their proper place in the Bureau pecking order. It was not a pleasant look. She again glanced at Will, Mike and Gus and she had a good idea of what was coming.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Will slid his hands in his pockets, smiled coldly, and sneered in a voice dripping with venom, "Agent Eppes, you enjoying the trip so far — Agent Eppes? We might not have a terrace here but we do have ridges and chasms, don't we boys? "

Don's well-honed instincts for self-preservation sprang into action and he stood.

Robin saw a shadow pass over Charlie's eyes and she suspected that if it had been another century, the smaller man might be reaching for his six-gun as he slowly rose to his feet.

Robin flashed on an oft-repeated theme from scores of old westerns and the words _'high noon'_ came to mind. She decided it would be wise to get her children out of the verbal crossfire soon to come.

"Girls," Robin was on her feet in an instant. She took David from Gus's arms and grabbed her oldest son's hand, "show me this wonderful horse," she said. "Men!" she huffed in disgust as she hurried away towards the corral.

"**I HAVE HAD ENOUGH**!" Charlie shouted as soon as his nieces and nephews were out of earshot. He stood between his friends and his brother. Turning towards the trio, he gestured in Don's direction. **"You three — do not fucking threaten him! For one thing, none of you intends to carry out your fucking threats and you know damned well you're just pissing in the wind. For another, this man is my brother! We've had our problems and I guess we still have a couple but we're working things out. Don and his family mean the world to me and I really wanted to show them a goddamned good time without all this FUCKING - MACHO – POSTURING - **_**BULLSHIT **_**so if you give a fuck about my feelings stop all of this **_**NOW**_**. He is my **_**family **_**and he is NOT going away so you need to learn to deal with him!"**

His eyes were flashing fire as he turned towards Don, "**And **_**YOU**_** — I've busted my ass and spent a fucking fortune to make this happen for you and your family and you want to **_**LEAVE**_? **Well, Don if you want to be that big an asshole then I'll get Will to fire up the jet tomorrow and fly your ass home. You won't even have to deal with the damned airlines but **_**YOU**_** can explain to your kids why they won't get to learn to ride horses or go on a hayride. These men — my pompous ass of a big brother — have saved my life innumerable times in more ways than I can possibly name. THEY are as much my brothers as you are, Don and **_**they **_**are not going away so if you want any kind of fucking relationship with me, you are going to have to deal with them!" **

He stood hands on his hips, taking deep breaths and staring at the ground. "You know what, I've tried — I honestly have. I love all of you and I hoped that maybe we could blend our families together. We all have a lot to offer each other but apparently you all love hating and sniping at each other more than you care about me." He threw up his hands, and began walking away, "I'm done. **FUCK ALL OF YOU**!" He shouted over his shoulder as he stomped off leaving four men staring after him.

…

Charlie Eppes stood tossing pebbles one by one into the dirt a few yards ahead. He didn't turn around or stop his tossing when Mike Donovan walked up behind him.

"You know little partner, I think you dropped more F bombs in the last ten minutes than you have in all the years I've known you put together. Maw Maw would wash your mouth out with soap," the marine said.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I guess I did sort of go off the deep end but, I'm not sorry and I won't apologize if that's why you came over here."

"I have no intention of asking you for an apology. To tell you the truth, its been a while since you let the wolf bare his fangs. I kind of enjoyed it. Besides, seeing Eppes so stunned his jaw was practically on the ground was priceless," Mike chuckled.

He stood for a moment as Charlie continued to toss pebbles, which raised miniscule puffs of dust as they hit the dry, barren earth. He laid his hand on the thin shoulder. "What did you expect? Did you think this was going to be easy?" The marine asked gently.

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know what I expected, I only hoped four grown men could at least pretend to be adults and get along for one damned week," he sighed heavily. "God, I'm really bad with people. Maybe I should just stay locked up with my computers and my equations. At least _them_ I understand." He tossed the pebbles a little harder.

Mike lifted his eyebrows and waited for his partner to continue.

"I guess _this_ idea has turned out to be a monumental FUBAR," Charlie said with a roll of his eyes. "I'll pay for Will to fly Don and his family home and …"

"Look, Rock, don't give up just yet. Eppes is tired. I'm sure it's been a tough day for all of them. After one of Mrs. Perry's dinners, a couple of beers and a good night's sleep, he might be a bit less of an asshole." He squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Come on, everyone's in the car. We're waiting on you."

"Hey, do you want to know why the pebbles produce exactly that …"

"**NO**!" Mike said emphatically.

Charlie sniffed and dropped the rest of the pebbles he held. He briskly brushed his hands together to remove as much dirt as possible then wiped the rest on his jeans as he and Mike walked towards the van. "So, did you think that last 'fuck all of you' was a bit over the top?" He asked.

"Naw, in fact I found it very effective. It held just the right amount of bile without slipping over into bitchy," Mike answered and both men laughed.

…

Gus Holiday knew something had to be done and it had to be done quickly! He glanced at his friend who sat in the passenger seat staring silently out the window. Charlie appeared calm but the big man wasn't fooled. He knew the little guy was still fuming inside and that he was very upset.

He looked in the rear-view. One row back, Robin and her sullen husband sat next to the car seat and their sleeping baby. They were quietly holding hands and staring out the window looking just as miserable as Charlie felt. Directly behind them, he saw one of his oldest friends, Mike Donovan, looking decidedly peeved. The twin girls sat next to him, both of them sound asleep.

Gus wasn't sure how this crazy plan of Charlie's was supposed to work. Considering the egos involved, it was probably doomed from inception but there was one thing he did know — this week meant a lot to the Doc. He had made so many plans and had such high hopes and it was all quickly turning to shit.

The big man glanced at the boy sitting directly across from him busily writing in a notebook while his siblings slept. In appearance, Justin Eppes took after his FBI agent father, though his cheekbones definitely came from his beautiful mother. Still — looking into his bright eyes, Gus saw a bit of the mathematician lurking there.

The boy possessed the same unquenchable thirst for knowledge and the same burning desire to absorb and learn as much as he could about the world around him as Charlie. Gus didn't doubt that someday he would conquer his shyness and — just like his uncle — enthusiastically explain to everyone and anyone how any problem big or small could be solved with the correct equation or algorithm —whether they wanted to hear about math or not.

Gus drummed the fingers of both hands against his knees. His eyes went from the back of Charlie's head to Justin. There was a special bond between those two, one that could flourish over the years if given a chance. Justin needed his uncle in his life — and Charlie needed Justin in his.

_'Something has to be done before this gets totally fucked up_,' he thought and like a bolt of lightning from on high, the answer came to him. He knew exactly what they all needed — the one thing almost guaranteed to fix any situation.

The big man glanced in the rear-view and tapped the back of the front seat with his foot. Will raised his eyes from the road to the mirror for a second and their eyes met. Gus lifted his eyebrows and his longtime partner caught his drift immediately and nodded in agreement. The tall man leaned over and hit a button on the dash. The inane chatter of the disk jockey abruptly stopped and the first strains of Marty Robin's _El Paso_ started to emanate from the speakers.

"No!" Mike Donovan shouted from the rear of the van, "I am ordering all of you to cease and desist right now!"

But his command went unheeded. Gus started first, soon to be joined by Will and finally Charlie as they sang along with Marty of love and tragedy in a west Texas town.

Mike leaned over the back of the seat addressing Don, frustration in his voice, "Do you see what I have to put up with? _This _why I keep my hair regulation! If I let it grow, those three would have me ripping it out by the roots in a week's time."

It was when they began singing _Ghost Riders in the Sky _that Mike leaned back and shook his head, "I just give up!" He huffed crossing his arms over his chest.

Mike Donovan smiled to himself. He knew what his friends were doing and they were not wrong. With the spontaneous concert, the tension in the van seemed to dissipate like the morning fog burned away by the sun and when Will and Charlie replaced the Yip-pie-ya-aye, Yip-pie-yi-o with wolf howls, everyone — even the taciturn Don Eppes — burst into laughter.

After about another hour of driving, Will made a sharp right on to a road paved only intermittently and almost too narrow for two cars going opposite directions to pass each other. Soon even that degenerated into a dirt path that was little more than a wagon rut. At this point, an impatient Amy asked when they would get to Uncle Will's ranch. She wanted to see real horses and cowboys close up, and she was tired of riding in a car. Don would never forget his kids' faces when their uncle nonchalantly answered her question.

"We've been on Uncle Will's ranch for the last two hours. Out here, nothing is close to anything else. If you want a pizza, well, you'd just better be able to bake one because the nearest pizza parlor is five hours over that rise."

"There's no cell coverage out here by the way, so you might as well put your phones away and no movie theaters or malls or cable. In fact, Uncle Will doesn't own a DVD player or a PlayStation. He doesn't even own a TV."

"No TV or movies or malls! What are we going to do for fun?" The girls began whining and Charlie just smiled. Soon they would have the answer to that question. He only hoped they liked the answer.

…

They arrived at Will's huge house just before dark. Mrs. Perry, her husband Tom and Will's six large, friendly dogs greeted them and with Tom's help, they unloaded the van quickly. Will showed everyone to their rooms and told them dinner would be in thirty minutes — in case they needed to freshen up.

An exhausted Don contemplated the notion of having Robin deliver his regrets and retiring early but his wife convinced him that that would be rude not only to his host and to Charlie but also to the woman who had spent hours preparing a welcome meal just for them.

After a few minutes of trying to rationalize his way around her arguments, Don reluctantly conceded that his wife was, as usual, correct. He ran a damp washcloth over his face, changed his shirt and joined the rest of the crew in the dining room — and he was glad he did.

The FBI agent did not realize just how famished he was until the stocky, middle-aged woman everyone always called _Mrs._ Perry began placing platters of roast chicken, juicy roast beef, potatoes and vegetables on the table.

The food was bountiful and extraordinary — a true feast in every sense of the word. When complimented on the dinner, Will gave full credit to his housekeeper's unparalleled talent in the kitchen and the fact that everything served, except for the wine, was raised on his own ranch. Even the bread was baked from scratch and the butter churned from the milk of his own cows.

"No hormones and no preservatives," he said with pride.

The dinner conversation was lively and Don found himself enjoying the good-humored ribbing the men gave each other. Mike accused Will, Gus and Charlie of disturbing the eternal rest of the illustrious Mr. Marty Robins by causing him to turn over in his grave with their caterwauling of two of his classics.

Will accused the marine of having camo for blood and of sleeping standing up at attention dressed in his fatigues. "He's not really a human, you know. He's a giant robotic GI Joe created at Quantico."

The kids all laughed at the mental image that produced.

"No, it's true, I've seen it and that's not a haircut by the way!" Charlie exclaimed. "He tried to bench press too much weight and his hair sprung right out his head and now it won't grow back!"

"Big talk from a pint-sized little pipsqueak! Keep it up short-stuff and I'll bench press you!" Mike tossed a buttered roll at the mathematician, "Here, eat something before one of Jennet's dogs mistakes you for a bone and buries you in the barn."

After dinner, Mike loudly volunteered Charlie and Gus for KP. They immediately issued a very vocal protest. In the end, everyone wound up pitching in. Mrs. Perry stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her ample bosom, shouting instructions as they cleaned.

"I swear to God that woman was a drill instructor in another life," The marine was heard to mutter more than once.

It took a while but finally the kitchen was spotless enough to pass muster with the formidable woman whose standards rivaled Mike Donovan's own and everyone settled in the living room to relax a little before bed.

"Uncle Will, do you have a TV?" Amanda asked as she sat down.

"Sorry little lady. We're always so busy here, I've never seen the need," the pilot said with a furtive glance at Charlie. "But we have lots of other ways to have fun." He pulled a guitar from behind his chair. "Would you like to learn some chords?" He asked.

"Oh yes, that sounds great!" The little girl's eyes lit up.

"Can I learn too?" Amy asked.

Gus retrieved his guitar from the corner. The four of them sat on the floor, and the two men helped the little girls learn the names of each string and the beginnings of finger placement. Then they softly strummed the instruments and the four of them sang a song as Will taught them the words.

Don Eppes looked up a little startled as Mike Donovan tapped him on the shoulder with something cold and damp. "Thought you could use a nightcap," he said.

Gratefully, Don took the frosty beer bottle and thanked the larger man who smiled, nodded a 'you're welcome' then walked past. He heard the screen door creak open and shut as the marine stepped out onto the porch to enjoy his own drink and the last Cuban of the day.

Robin let out a contented sigh, kissed her husband tenderly and rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling against his warm body as his strong arm encircled her. "Still want to leave?" She whispered sleepily.

Don sipped his beer and looked around. His daughters were intently watching as the two men showed them chords on their guitars. Justin and Charlie were sitting on the love seat across the room their heads bent over a book talking quietly among themselves. David was sleeping soundly in his crib upstairs. Now it was his turn to sigh.

"Maybe we can give it a day or two," he answered and kissed her fragrant hair.

…

"Good morning, brother in-law," Robin Eppes said gently giving Charlie a kiss on the cheek.

The mathematician looked up. His sister in-law was dressed in jeans, a soft, royal blue sweater and sneakers that were a little worn. Her long dark hair was casually pulled back and held with a scrunchy and he couldn't help but notice that having four children certainly hadn't hurt her figure in the least. Charlie was immediately embarrassed at the thought and he quickly turned away.

"Good morning, sister in-law," he muttered and rinsed a plate placing it in the drainer. He nodded towards the end of the counter, "There's fresh coffee. The cups are in the cabinet right above the coffee maker. If you need it, the cream is in the fridge. Where's the rest of the family?" He asked.

"You are an angel," Robin said gratefully and poured herself a cup. She leaned against the counter. "It's Don's turn to get the kids dressed. I think there may be a minor emergency. Amy can't find her _Dora the Explorer_ tee shirt."

Charlie frowned, "Can't she just wear another shirt?"

She took a sip of the hot, rich brew and smiled. "You don't have much experience with little girls, do you?"

Charlie chuckled and shook his head no. "I don't understand big girls either."

Robin cocked her head to one side, "So, Don told me you tore everyone an R-rated new one," she said.

Charlie blushed, "Oh, man, please tell me the kids didn't hear that. I'm so sorry if…," he sounded genuinely concerned.

"No, Charlie, they didn't hear a thing. They were too busy petting an ancient sway-back horse to pay attention to anything else," she grinned. "And of course they were also listening to their mother trying to explain what Uncle Mike meant by 'gelding'."

Charlie snickered, "So," he suddenly looked apprehensive, "do I need to tell Will to get the jet ready?" He asked.

"I don't think that will be necessary. Don knows this means a lot to you, he's just…," Robin gently touched his thin wrist. "Sweetheart, I know my husband can be a little bit of an … autocrat at times."

Charlie's eyes opened a little wider. "Robin, Stalin was an autocrat. Ivan the Terrible, Lenin, Franco, Vlad the Impaler — _they_ were autocrats; Don Eppes is the most freaking IMPOSSIBLE, stubborn, pigheaded, egotistical, do it my way or the highway …!" he said emphatically.

"I know, but," she squeezed his hand, "he loves you. I know it hasn't seemed like it in recent years but…he missed his little brother, he really did."

Charlie had no answer for that. He only looked away for a second, his eyes filled with doubt. Suddenly both of them smiled as the sound of little feet charging down the stairs and girlish giggles filled the air.

"Kids, not so loud, Daddy hasn't had his coffee yet," Don looked a bit worse for wear as he held his youngest; he leaned and kissed his wife. "Crisis averted, we found the shirt between the mattress and the innerspring. Naturally neither of them has any idea how it got there," he said and smiled at Charlie. "Good morning, buddy."

"Same to you," the mathematician said. "Grab some coffee. Mrs. Perry left pancakes in the oven for all of you for breakfast."

The older Eppes man went to the dining room to put his son in the highchair while Robin poured him a cup of rich, hot French roast. "Pancakes sound perfect. Where is everyone, anyway?" He asked when Charlie joined him.

"Everyone else is out on the ranch. We let you sleep in since you all seemed so tired after your trip but — fair warning — things start early here. This _is_ a working ranch after all, almost three thousand acres. It's not just some hobby farm. Animals have to be looked after and fed and fences and outbuildings repaired." Charlie set the warm platter of pancakes on the table and he sat down with a cup of coffee for himself.

Robin began placing food on each member of her family's plates, "What about you? Aren't you eating?" She asked when she saw her brother in-law had no plate.

"I ate with the guys before they took off," Charlie said and saw her eyes narrow, "No, really, I had some toast earlier." He took a sip of the hot liquid.

She gently smacked him on the top of the head, "Toast is not breakfast," she chided.

"What are we doing today, Uncle Charlie?" Amanda asked as she took a bite of her pancakes.

"When Uncle Will gets back, all of you are going to have your first horseback riding lesson." The kids let out a gleeful shout, "But until then there are lots of things to do starting with playing Frisbee with the dogs. They can do some really neat tricks so all of you finish your breakfast so we can start having fun."

The kids began to all but shovel food into their mouths in anticipation until their mother reminded them of their manners.

Don looked at the man sitting across from him, sending him an unspoken message. The jury was still out on this week. Any problems from the A-Team and he very well could decide to abort the entire thing and take his family home — even if he had to commandeer one of Jennet's cars to do it — even if his kids were mad at him for the next month — he didn't care. He was going to do what he thought was best for his family's well-being, Charlie's needs aside.

Don saw that his message had been understood loud and clear. He gave his brother a nod and turned his attention back to his pancakes and wiping syrup from Amanda's chin.

Charlie bit the inside of his lip and tapped his finger against his coffee cup. '_Why is nothing ever easy with that man?' _He thought and as if she had read his mind, Robin patted his hand and gave him a sympathetic little smile.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. I had to break the ending into five parts because the guys just wouldn't stop talking.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part Four

"RUN, DADDY, RUN! RUN!" Amanda and Amy cheered, clapped and jumped up and down as their father dashed across the yard dribbling a basketball with Justin, Charlie, and a huge black dog right at his heels.

"Come on Sweetheart, you can beat him!" Robin shouted along with her girls. "David, clap for Daddy, isn't he great?" She lovingly cuddled the small child in her arms as he squealed in delight and bounced up and down, clapping like his big sisters.

Don moved into position to shoot but his little brother pulled that same old move he always pulled — the only truly good move Charlie possessed. He cut in from the side, took the ball and was gone but Team Don was not to be vanquished so easily!

The FBI agent rushed around his younger brother and recovered the ball. He handed it off to Justin and lifted the boy high over his head so he could shoot and score, winning the game to the delight of all.

"Good job, son!" Don held his boy, ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek. In return, he got a huge, excited grin as Justin's little arms waved over his head in triumph.

"Congratulations, gentleman," Charlie shook the opposing team's hands. "That was a great game! Of course, _I _would have won if my power forward was Justin instead of a Labrador/Cur mix," he said to his smirking older brother then he knelt and petted the dog that was still prancing and panting excitedly at his feet. "But I love you anyway, Samson." The dog barked a couple of times and leaned against him, tail madly wagging. "You played a good game, yes you did. Good boy!"

"Excuses, excuses, you just can't admit that we're better players," Don grinned then took a deep breath. "Wow that was … a lot of running!" He said wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "I could use a cold drink, how about you two?" He asked his fellow players.

"There's lemonade in the refrigerator," Charlie said rising to his feet. "I'll go get it, big brother. You just sit and cool off before you fall on your face." A wicked smile touched his lips. "Sometimes I forget he's _five_ years _older_ than me." He '_whispered_' loudly to the kids as he dashed up the porch steps.

"Yeah, well," Don muttered under his breath, "wait until later and I'll show you older, you little — pipsqueak," he parroted Mike's remark from earlier.

Robin laughed and slipped her arms around her husband's neck. Soon he found himself surrounded by his adoring family, "You two were fantastic," she said kissing her husband then her oldest son.

After a few minutes, Charlie returned with a tray of glasses and the lemonade.

"Here ya go, _Sweetheart_. This should make you feel better," Charlie said with an amused glint in his eyes as he handed his brother a glass.

Don grinned and blushed slightly as he gratefully took the frosty beverage. "Very funny, little brother, very funny." He muttered under his breath then leaned over to kiss his wife.

"Can we play another game?" Amanda asked.

"This time let's play something we can all take part in." Robin handed David to his father. "And I think I have the perfect game."

…

Charlie Eppes sat on the top porch-step and watched his older brother and his family play a game David called _Duck, Duck, Doose, Doose. _ Justin was currently slowly circling his family chanting _'duck, duck' _while they giggled and waited to see who would be chosen as _Doose _in this round. Suddenly the boy tapped Amanda's shoulder shouting 'Goose!' and they both took off running and laughing at the top of their lungs.

Charlie smiled. When Robin had suggested they all play a game, Charlie had excused himself. He felt that Don and his family needed some time together, just the six of them so he sat on the steps to watch. Justin sat beside him saying he would rather talk about Einstein than play a baby game with his brother and sisters.

"Pal," Charlie whispered, "we can talk later. Right now, I think your Mommy and Daddy want you to be with them."

"Justin, come on!" Amanda was shouting and waving her hand. "You never play with us and this is going to be more fun than math!"

"Yeah, come on! We want you to play!" Amy rushed up the stairs and grabbed her brother's hand pulling him towards the yard.

"Nothing is more fun than math!" The boy protested. "Right, Uncle Charlie?"

"Math is fun but so is playing _Duck, Duck, Goose, Goose _with your sisters. Go — have a good time." Charlie said nodding towards his older brother who was gathering his family in a circle. "Bet you can beat your Daddy!"

Charlie watched as the little group laughed together and chased each other back and forth and round and round. They were obviously a devoted, close-knit family. He thought how lucky the kids were to have such a beautiful, nurturing mother and Don was a caring, giving, loving father and husband who would do anything to make his family happy and keep them safe.

The younger Eppes brother laughed when the kids chased their mugging father across the yard only to be caught and lifted over his head one by one eliciting gales of childish laughter. It made him feel good to see his brother so happy and so content.

Charlie closed his eyes for moment as an unexpected twinge of pain shot through his heart. Without warning, they were there — his wife and his son¸ not a tiny baby who never had a chance to live but a ghostly little figure with unruly curls and huge, dark shinning eyes who rushed into his father's outstretched arms, giggling as he was whirled around, _"I love you, Daddy_!" He whispered.

_"I love you too, buddy,"_ he said, _"and you_._ I'll love you both forever._" He gazed at the woman at his side. He leaned to kiss her but as quickly as they came, they were gone leaving him behind, wishing he could let them go — and yet praying he never would.

Charlie stood, his hands tightly clasp at his side. He had to get away from the devoted family romping happily in the yard. He felt trapped. He needed to be alone. He dashed down the steps and hurried across the yard taking long, purposeful strides. He pushed open the door of the converted barn and ducked inside.

…

The morning sun filtered through the spaces between the slats of the barn creating an almost film noir effect. He walked over, placed his trembling hands on the hood of the 1948 F-4 flatbed truck, and took several deep breaths, fighting to banish the ghosts of what, if the fates had been kinder, would have been his life.

Charlie ran his hands over the smooth cold metal. He remembered the day Will discovered the old hulk of a flatbed rusting away in a field near Margie's place. The three older men were extremely excited for a reason the mathematician couldn't begin to comprehend. They saw an automotive treasure — a true piece of American history — he saw an outmoded, rusted heap.

Will immediately rushed to the nearby farmhouse, bought the piece of crap for what Charlie considered far too much money. He then called Tom and soon the foreman and a couple of the ranch hands arrived with the Dually and some heavy chain — and _THEY_ also acted like their boss had struck gold!

Charlie remembered standing back out of the way watching as they circled oohing and ahhing, staring at the rusted truck as if it had just solved the Hodge Conjecture — or it held a pristine copy of a Detective Comics # 27 — the first appearance of Batman.

_'Either they're nuts or I am completely devoid of the 'guy' gene," he thought shaking his head, inwardly suspecting the latter to be the truth._

After about twenty minutes of antique truck-worship, the men reverently hooked the piece of shit up and hauled it back to the ranch, stopping frequently along the way to toss parts in its bed as they unceremoniously fell off. When they finally got home, they placed it in the barn and Will instantly began making plans for a complete restoration.

…

_"Well, I hope you guys have fun because…" Charlie started to say as he turned to walk from the barn._

_"Not so fast, Einstein," Will grabbed him by the collar. "This is a Pack project and __**that **__means __**you**__."_

_"Are you crazy? I'm not a mechanic! I can't …"_

_"The only reason you can't do mechanical things is nobody ever forced you to when you were growing up. Well, little partner you know that 'I don't work with my hands' inept shit doesn't fly with us." Mike stood in front of him blocking his way. _

_"We forced you to learn to drive a stick, crawl through muck, fieldstrip any kind of weapon blindfolded and repair it even if ya have to use spit and chewing gum to do it. YOU, my friend are going to be up to your skinny ass in motor oil and grease and you WILL learn the workings of the internal combustion engine." _

_"Yeah, well we'll just see about that!" Charlie sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked up at Mike's scowling face._

_"Yeah — we sure as hell will!" Mike crossed his arms and glared down into his diminutive partner's dark eyes._

_It took ten minutes of staring into viper-like gray eyes that never blinked — not once — for Charlie to remember lessons hard learned during the past few years. GySgt Donovan was much like the Borg. When he wanted you to do something, especially something you thought was too difficult or you simply wanted no part of it — resistance was futile. Either you gave in or he made life unendurable until you did. In the end, Charlie just threw up his hands in surrender and walked away. _

_To the mathematician's great relief, his first assignment in what was to become affectionately called Project Rust Bucket was right up his alley. In fact, it was one he considered the best and most efficient use of his skills. He was to run down parts on the internet while Mike, Gus and Will searched junk yards and attended auctions. (Gus was soon banned from auctions because he kept getting caught up in the excitement and bidding against himself and his partners.)_

_As Charlie searched websites and contacted collectors, he found — to his surprise, that his enthusiasm about the truck began to grow. He listened to owner's stories about their own F-4s. About how the truck once belonged to a father or a grandfather — how it was purchased just after the war for the family business or as a work truck for the family farm. The trucks served their owners well over the years helping to earn money to put food on the table during some tough times. _

_Suddenly restoring old Rusty didn't seem like such an insipid, useless waste of time and money after all. Even though they knew nothing of its history, Charlie was sure the truck had served its owners well during its day. It deserved a better fate than to decay in a field, a nest for vermin. It deserved a new life with people who would appreciate it. _

_Project Rust Bucket became a passion for all of them. Whenever time allowed, the Pack would gather at the ranch and work on the truck, cleaning out decades of leaves, weeds, and rodent nests. Old parts were removed, sorted and placed in buckets for either disposal if they were worthless or cleaning if they were salvageable. The huge V-8 flat-head engine was hoisted from the frame and placed on a sturdy, reinforced stand so it could be gone over with a fine-tooth comb. _

_Little by little, part by part, the Project inched forward. It would take them years to complete it due to the fact they could only work on it in their spare time — and when they did get together to work, they spent as much time drinking beer and bullshitting as they did restoring. _

_Of course, bullshitting and beer is a major part of the fun with any male-centric restoration job and it was during one of those sessions that they had one of the most protracted, stupid, and nonsensical arguments of their friendship. _

_It was Gus who opened the door for the entire incident by loudly extolling the virtues of a truck like Rusty in the coming conflagration, which he was sure was just one biotechnology-gone-mad accident away._

_Charlie had tossed an empty beer bottle in the large trashcan designated just for that purpose and huffed in an exasperated tone. "For the last time, there is no zombie apocalypse on the horizon! The very idea is ludicrous and flies in the face of science!" _

_And that smart-mouth retort started the whole thing. It went on for hours, ricocheting between the four men like a Ping-Pong ball. The hilarious thing was that the gist of the argument was not even the existence of zombies or an imminent war with the walking dead. The argument was whether or not a zombie could infect a vampire with the virus since a vampire is also technically — dead._

_After nearly four years of equally preposterous arguments, a mountain of beer and a lot of camaraderie, the old truck was transformed from a worthless hulk into a beautiful example of a by-gone era. The only thing left to do was to paint it. They debated if Will should add a mural but they all agreed that would not be what their truck wanted if it could speak. _

_"This here's a workin' truck, not some fancy-ass show piece." Gus said. "International Harvester Red's the only color for Rusty," and they all agreed._

_When the work was completed, Will flew Maw-Maw in from Florida for the christening and Charlie brought Dee from New York. The photographer in Charlie decided they needed a picture to commemorate the occasion, and not just any picture. It had to be something special. _

_They all dressed in faded over-all's and held mason jars filled with water — at least he thought Gus's was filled with water, he was never really sure. Maw-Maw sat in a rocking chair in the front row, a shotgun across her lap and Dee put her hair in pigtails. _

_Charlie put the camera on a tripod, set the timer and ran to join the group gathered on Rusty's flatbed. He made framed copies for everyone. His hung on the wall in his office. Maw-Maw's hung behind the counter of her store. _

_"That's me 'n my babies" she told anyone who asked and many who didn't. "An 'that's ol' Rusty, the best truck in the world cause my boys built him with their own hands. They flew me up ta Montana ta christen him. Willie let me drive him and the little 'un fell off the back tryin' to get one o his snapshots. He's a sweet boy, that little Charlie is. Always makes me copies of his pictures an' he sends me birthday cards an' a card on Mother's Day. Takes care of my Gus for me too. He's an angel, that little 'un."_

…

Charlie smiled at the memory. That had been a good time for all of them — a simple, fun, zombie -verses - vampires arguing, up to their collective asses in grease and old truck parts — guy time. They had nothing more dangerous to deal with than keeping the old Kelvinator fridge full of snacks and beer — and a mechanically-challenged mathematician with free access to pneumatic tools and an air-compressor.

He sighed. The wind had picked up causing a hook suspended on a chain from a rafter to cast eerie shadows as it swung slowly back and forth and the joists of old barn began to creak and groan. From outside he heard the laughter of children and a little girl's voice reached his ears.

"Look-out Daddy; we're coming to get you!" Amanda shouted.

The childish taunt startled Charlie and he froze. _"Look-out; we're coming to get you!"_

From of the corner of his eyes he saw a silhouette move, then another and another, the crouched forms of men passing in the distance.

_'Coming to get you!'_

A window in the loft slammed open and something fell over with a loud crash. Quietly Charlie slipped through the side door of the barn making his way towards a stand of trees a few yards away.

'_We're coming to get you!' _Fearsome mocking words — not the playful mantra of a child.

The words echoed through his head and he found himself spiraling down the rabbit hole to another time and another place. _'Coming to get you, look-out…out…out,'_

He sank to the ground covering his face, against the images filling his head as the warm summer breezes deteriorated into the icy bite of winter and fresh country air became heavy with the bile-raising stench of blood and death.

…

_He inched forward doing his best not to make a sound, trying to disturb as little of the surrounding terrain as possible. He had to move without leaving a trail for the others to follow. He had to stay hidden. He kept low, sometimes crouching — sometimes crawling just as Mike had taught him. _

_How long had he been making his way towards camp? He wasn't sure but he knew it had been hours. When the nightmare first began, it had been late afternoon, now it was pitch-black night. If he could have headed directly back, he would have been home hours ago, but that route would have meant certain capture or death. He had no choice except to head in the opposite direction going farther up into the mountains then back down coming in from the east. _

_He paused to shift the position of his weapon. For a moment, he rested his aching head against his hands. He was chilled to his very bones. How long had it been? It didn't matter. He had but one goal — to get back and warn the unit. _

_Charlie thought of Steve. Why didn't he listen? WHY…WHY didn't he take their situation seriously? From the beginning, he had treated the mission as if it was a video game like 'Gears of War', but in this real-life version, there is no respawning. If you make a mistake, it's game-over forever — and Steve had made a mistake._

_"Eppes, that uniform you're wearing does not make you a soldier any more than a Patriots jersey would make you a quarterback so drop the damned GI Joe act." That would be the last cynical remark Steve would ever make to anyone. _

_Had Steve realized he had been shot? Had he felt even a momentary flash of pain? That thought haunted Charlie for years as would the look in Steve's eyes in that last horrific moment. _

_"__**DAVIS!" **__Charlie barked resorting to last names hoping he could get through to the obstinate Stanford scientist. __**"We have regulations for a reason and like it or not, I out-rank you!**__**NOW**__, __**FOR THE LAST**__**DAMNED TIME, WEAR YOUR FUCKING HEL…**__" and his friend's head exploded like an over-ripe watermelon. _

_Had Steve felt that shot? Had he heard it? There was no way to know the answer to that question. Probably it all happened too quickly. Life simply ended as if someone turned off a switch. But if Steve hadn't heard it, Charlie had and he would never forget the sound any more than he would forget how it felt — how it smelled and tasted to be splattered with blood, shards of bone and bits of brain matter. To his dying day, he would always remember every detail of that frigid afternoon._

_For a split second, he stood stock-still, stunned, shaken and covered in his friend's blood. Then their armed escort, Sgt. Luis Silva yelled and grabbed his arm pulling him down. They both crouched low and ran in the opposite direction of the gunfire. _

_Luis was a few steps ahead of him. Suddenly he stopped and turned — for what reason, Charlie would never know. The next bullet ripped through his friend's body. Charlie caught him as he fell and they stumbled behind some boulders and collapsed to the ground entangled in each other's arms. _

_Charlie's breaths came in ragged gasps and, even though he knew it was hopeless, he desperately tried to stem the flow of hot, sticky blood gushing from the wound, The 5.7 x 28 black- tipped cartage had torn through Luis' protective vest, all his layers of heavy clothing, finally piercing flesh and bone. _

_Once inside, it tumbled, opened up and fragmented. The hydrostatic shock it produced liquefied organs and caused massive neurological damage even though the entry point its-self was just below the ribs. Charlie knew Luis's liver was probably gone and, judging from the frothy blood bubbling from his lips, his lungs were as well. _

_Luis was twitching, choking on his own blood._

_Charlie knew there was nothing he could do to help the wounded man. The logical thing would be to run and save his own life — but Charlie couldn't leave him. No one should die alone without comfort — without solace. Charlie lifted his fallen friend and held him close hoping he could at least make his last moments easier. _

_"I'll get you home," he whispered. "I promise I'll somehow get you both home. No one gets left behind, Luis, no one. I promise." _

_Finally, in a mercifully short period of time, Charlie heard a gasp and felt the man's body heave — and he knew he was alone. He held Luis for a while longer too dazed to move. What was he doing out there? Steve was right. He was a mathematician, not a soldier! What the hell was he doing out there? _

_And then his blood turned to ice water as a sound that shouldn't be floated in on a gust of wind and something moved in the distance. He gently laid Luis down. He looked into eyes as dark as his own and saw nothing. All that was Luis was gone. Charlie knew he should run but he also knew he had a mission to complete. _

_'Maybe I was just a mathematician, Steve, but now I'm a soldier. I have no other choice.' he thought. 'Mike, I'm gonna do my best to make you proud but if I fail … at least know I tried my best.'_

_He opened his dead friend's pack and grabbed three full thirty-round magazines. Those plus the one in the rifle should be enough. He shoved the magazines in the pockets of his jacket and wresting the weapon from Luis's cold grasp, he whispered, "Forgive me." Charlie then took cover and he waited. _

_They came from the hills to the south of his position. There were six of them talking among themselves. At first Charlie thought they were insurgents and that he and his friends had stumbled into a terrorist training ground even though the entire area was supposed to have been cleared and safe but as he listened he felt his heartbeat quicken. _

_They spoke in English and their accents were without a doubt American. One of them spoke a name — and he had known the truth. An old line from Pogo echoed through his head._

_'We have met the enemy … and he is us'_

_Charlie positioned himself a little more securely and readied the rifle. If he was going out, he was going out fighting. He gazed through the EoTech holographic sight watching in horror as one of them kicked at the ruin that was Steve — then Charlie spotted HIM and he knew __**this**__ man was the one! He could tell by the weapon he carried and by the way the others treated him. This one was the sniper — the one who killed Steve — the one who killed Luis. _

_Charlie clenched his teeth as he watched the bastard stand over the body of his prey leaning his head back, letting out a chilling whoop of triumph and laughing as he raised his weapon in the air. He reached down and snatched the dog tags from around his victim's neck — yet another trophy to add to his collection. _

_Brief memories of his friends flashed through Charlie's mind; Steve's damned math puns and his constant off-key Springsteen; Luis talking about his wife and kids, showing him their photographs, telling him about his plans for a family trip home to Puerto Rico in the summer for his sister's wedding._

_Charlie took a slow four-count breath, his finger on the trigger. It would be such an easy shot. He had the murdering asshole in his crosshairs. In silence, he watched as the sniper did a little dance like a quarterback making a game-winning touchdown on Sunday afternoon as his buddies slapped him on the back, congratulating him on a job well-done._

_It would be so easy, so goddamned easy and vengeance would be his — but when Mike trained him to be a soldier, he had taught him the honor of the Corp as well. Duty always came first and it was his duty to get back and warn the unit — and it was his duty to complete his mission — still, it would be so easy…_

_'We have met the enemy … and he is us'_

_He licked his lips. They didn't know he was watching. They probably thought he had run away like a scared rabbit. They would be taken completely by surprise. It would be no different than shooting paper targets at the range … so easy. An eye for an eye as the saying goes — a life for a life. It was war. He was justified. He knew he had only one shot and his position would be revealed. Charlie took the rifle off full auto to save ammo. He took another tactical breath to steady his aim — and he pulled the trigger._

_A rapid three shot burst ripped through the air and half of the reason for their mission became a pile of useless smoldering plastic and destroyed circuitry. He had done his duty. He had kept the project from falling into enemy hands — __**now**__ it was time to run. Charlie shouldered his weapon and slid down the rock-face leaving the sniper for another day. _

_He kept low edging along the rocks, keeping ahead of the men searching for him. The wind picked up bringing with it freezing rain and snow and he knew he needed to find shelter fast. After what seemed like an eternity of fighting the elements, Charlie found a small cave hidden behind dried foliage and rocks. He dove in crouching in the dark trying not to make a sound, listening to footsteps walking almost on top of him— and then there was silence._

_The hours passed slowly and day became night. It had been a long time since he heard a sound except for the wind but he knew they were still searching — he knew they were close. It was only a matter of time before they found his cave and most importantly, he had to get back to camp — he had to warn the others. _

_'We have met the enemy … and he is us.' _

_Crawling on his belly for much of the time, he was once again, on the move. He crawled over frost-encrusted ground and through icy streams. His friends' blood was frozen to his jacket. He was numb, body and soul and he was driven — driven by one all consuming desire, no matter what it took, he had to get back to his unit. He had to get home._

_Charlie was exhausted but he kept moving, never stopping — not for rest— not for food — not even for water. The already freezing temperature had plummeted and he saw a slight almost imperceptible change in the sky. Dawn was coming and he was almost home; just a half a mile more. No time to rest — no time to stop — just a half a mile more! _

_Then he heard them. They were very close. He lay still making himself part of the earth on which he lay. He didn't move, he barely breathed. _

_Without warning, a hated voice cut through the night. "Better scurry away home, little fox, 'cause we're coming to get you."_

_Suddenly he was in the desert — terrified, drugged and tortured — kidnapped by an old friend whose hatred of him had turned to madness. He was standing at the edge of eternity watching as the stars streaked across a black velvet sky and disappeared over the horizon. An old Nick Cave song echoed through his mind and from somewhere he heard the sound of a little girl calling out to her father. _

_"We're coming to get you Daddy!" _

_"We're coming to get you little fox, scurry away home," Hick's voice rebounded through Charlie's head._

_He had to get back; he had to warn the others! The sun was rising. He was almost there. He could see Gus and Will sitting on the improvised picnic table waiting for it to get light enough for the patrol to go out searching for their missing comrades. They were out in the open, easy targets for the sniper! _

_He licked his raw, cracked lips. He had to warn them! He was aware that when he made that final push for home, he would be giving up his cover. The sniper could easily shoot him in the back as he ran but even __**that**__ would give his friends a warning. _

_He took a couple of breaths, scrambled to his feet and charged towards camp shouting for everyone to get down. Gus and Will jumped from their perch and hit the ground. They looked in his direction and, despite his warning, rose and ran towards him. They grabbed him, almost lifting him off his feet. _

_"Charlie, where's Steve and Luis?" They demanded._

_Charlie shook his head gasping._

_"My God, you're covered in blood! Are you hit?"_

_Another shake of his head as he choked out the words, "We've been …. he…, we have to get out of here … NOW!"_

_No one questioned him. There was no time. The entire unit was soon immersed in the organized chaos known as a bug-out. Charlie charged into the large tent he shared with Steve. He stripped off his ruined jacket, retrieved the spare magazines from the pockets and tossed it into a corner. He grabbed a clean one from the back of a chair. He knew it was Steve's but at that moment, he didn't care. Steve no longer needed it and he did._

_Charlie snatched his go bag from under his bunk shoved the magazines in and rushed to the door that led to the room that served as their lab. He was surprised to find it unlocked and slightly ajar. Cautiously he pushed it open — and he froze in his tracks. Everything, even the grease boards, was smashed as if someone had taken a hammer to them! The transmitter they were developing — the very heart of the mission lay in pieces on the table. _

_'We have met the enemy … and he is us.' _

_"Eppes, move your ass! We have to…" Gus stopped in mid-sentence. "What the fuck!" He stared around the lab. "Who …?"_

_"I don't know," Charlie hissed as he scooped up the smashed device and shoved it into his bag. "Grab Steve's ruck sack and stuff as many components as you can in it. Don't worry about being careful. It's too late for that." He looked around and added the pouch that contained the tools he used to repair the computers to his bag. _

_"Charlie, it had to of been one of us what done …"_

_"I know! There's no time to discuss that now! Just grab what you can and let's get out of here!" _

_They were running from the tent. "Remind me later to ask you why we're waggin' bags of broken shit on a bug-out!" Gus shouted just as the first of the RPG's hit and they were thrown to the ground by the force of the impact._

_"We're coming to get you, little fox! We're coming to get you."_

…

"Charlie!" Don Eppes said, concern in his voice as he started to hurry towards his brother but a hand reached out and grasped his shoulder causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

_'I swear I'm going to put a bell around their damned necks!' _He thought as he realized the hand belonged to Will Jennet and that Gus was standing right behind him.

"Agent Ep … no — I'm sick of that shit — Don," Will said quietly, "let Mike take of him. He knows how to handle Charlie when he's like this."

Will stepped aside as Mike pushed past them and slowly approached the small man sitting alone on the ground near a stand of trees. Charlie rocked slowly back and forth, his legs hugged to his chest, head resting on his bent knees.

"He's my brother and he needs …" Don started to interrupt.

"We know he's your brother but you have no conception of …where he is right now. Please, take my word for it; you can't help him with this one."

"Gunny there can talk that boy back to earth bettern' anyone else." Gus said.

Don watched as Mike Donovan sat down beside Charlie, slid an arm around his shoulder, and leaned close. Don could tell he was talking to Charlie but they were too far away for him to hear the words.

Don Eppes frowned as he watched the two men. "We were playing a game," he said more to himself than anyone else. "The kids wanted Uncle Charlie to play the next round with us and I noticed he was gone. I went to find him and saw …" Don shook his head. "He was just sitting there. I …"

"It's not as bad as it looks. Charlie will be fine. He just needs a little time to... regain his footing." Will said laying a hand on the agent's shoulder. "They need some privacy right now." He steered a reluctant Don back towards his family.

For a second the agent balked and turned back towards his brother but Will stopped him. "You don't want your kids to see their uncle like this," he said softly. "Come on, I have something up in my studio to keep them occupied for a while."

"But I want to …"

"I know but, he's in the right hands. Trust us on this one." Will said and led Don away.

…

"I'm not very good at drawing," Amanda said as she gazed at the canvas. "That doesn't look much like a horse."

"You should see my attempts at art," Charlie said as he entered the studio with Mike right at his heels. He passed his worried brother giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder then he settled down on a chair at the table near the window. "Your horse looks a lot more like a horse then my wolves look like wolves. That's why Will does all my illustrations for me."

Don could see Charlie was a little shaky but he was very much in the present; still — the agent wasn't nearly as reassured as to his brother's state of mind he'd like to be.

"Have any of you ever heard of Jackson Pollock?" Will asked the kids.

His question was met with blank stares. "No, Uncle Will, is he an artist like you?" Amy asked.

"Well, he was an artist but far more famous than I'll ever be," Will answered. "Art does not have to look like a photograph. It can be whatever you want it to be. Look at Picasso's work for instance."

Gus sat down in a chair across from Charlie, leaned it back on its two rear legs, put his feet up on the table and clasp his hands behind his head. "Most of Pollock's danged ol scribbles looked like he fed chickens paint, tossed a canvas on the floor of their coop and let the birds do the work," he said.

"An' that Pee - cass- o I swear he must never of seen a woman cause he has the nose on one side and the danged ears crooked an one big ol eye …"

"You just don't understand art, you crazy old redneck!" Will said.

Gus snorted, "I may be a redneck but I know a danged ol paintin' done by chickens or a man what done swigged a jug of shine when I see one. Norman Rockwell, or that guy that makes woods and cabins all pretty and sunshiny, or pictures of dogs doin' stuff, now **that's** art!"

"Excuse me for a second," Will nodded an apology to the Eppes clan. Then, very calmly, he crossed the room and putting his foot under his friend's legs, with one kick he sent the big man flying over backwards. He returned to the now laughing children, a self-satisfied look on his tanned, weathered face.

"Will! Great way to be a role model!" Charlie scolded shaking his head. "Kids, don't try that at home, they're _professional_ idiots."

"As I was saying," Will continued narrowing his eyes at the mathematician, "art is whatever you want it to be. You're making this painting for yourself and no one else. There is no right or wrong, good or bad. Just have fun with it."

He let the children continue putting paint to canvas only giving advice when asked. He let them work until Mrs. Perry called to say lunch was ready. Will taught the kids how to clean their brushes and put them away; assuring them, they would have ample time to finish before they had to go home.

After a picnic lunch of chicken sandwiches and fruit salad, Will gave the thrilled children their first horseback riding lesson. Even little David got to take part with Gus leading him around on a gentle little creature named Muffin while his older siblings learned how to mount, dismount, and the proper way to sit in a saddle and guide a horse with its reins. Will told them that by the end of the week they, along with their parents and their uncle, would be able to take a short tour of the ranch by horseback. Some of the backcountry was too rugged but there were a few trails perfect for novice riders.

Later, Charlie, Will and Gus took them all out to the compound and introduced them to the Pack's mascots, Geri and Freki. Will and Charlie carefully brought the children, one at a time, into the high fenced area and sat them on a bench. Geri allowed the children to stroke his fur and have their picture taken with him but Freki was more standoffish and preferred to keep his distance.

"Uncle Will, are the wolves your pets?" Justin asked as he gently patted the huge head and looked into intelligent, yellow eyes.

"They're my friends but no matter how tame they seem, a wild animal, even one born and raised in captivity like these, are never pets like a dog or a cat. You have to study their nature and be very respectful and cautious around them at all times. You never know what might upset them or scare them and then they might hurt you because they are always going to be wild animals."

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Justin said with a grin.

"Yes, they are." Will agreed. "And soon your Uncle Charlie is going to show you something fantastic!"

"What? What is Uncle Charlie going to show us?" Justin's eyes lit up.

"Oh no, I'm not going to spoil his surprise." Will ruffled his hair and smiled. "You'll just have to wait."

All too soon, the sun was going down and it was time to head home for dinner. The meal was not as elaborate as before but it was just as delicious and the conversation just as lively though Charlie seemed quiet and withdrawn causing his brother no small amount of anxiety.

After the table was cleared and the kitchen cleaned, everyone again gathered in the living room to play music and games and just talk. Earlier, Don had promised the kids that if they were good all day, they could stay up an hour past their bedtime. They put forth a gallant effort to cash in on their father's promise, but the day had been a very full one and they found themselves nodding off by eight so Robin made the unilateral decision that it was time for bed.

She said goodnight and giving her husband a tender kiss, headed upstairs with her sleepy, grumbling brood in tow. Not long afterwards, Charlie stood, and without a word, went outside alone.

Don Eppes stood at the screen door, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wanted to follow his brother and make sure he was okay but he didn't know if Charlie was waiting for Mike or if he wanted to be alone. Don frowned and rested one hand on the doorjamb wondering if he followed Charlie, would his presence be welcomed, or considered an intrusion.

"I think he's waiting for you."

"Son of a…! Shit…! I'm going to put bells around all your damned necks!" The startled agent shouted, jerked and spun around to face the man standing directly behind him. "How the hell do you people keep sneaking up on me?"

"Eppes, we run black ops in places we're not even officially supposed to be. Stealth is vital to what we do." Mike Donovan chuckled. "But seriously, I'm fairly sure Charlie is hoping for a little one on one time with his big brother."

Don frowned and turned back around facing the door. "I'm not so sure about that," he said. "We've spent so many years apart, Mike. You two seem more like brothers than we … God, I really regret all the time I've lost with my brother."

Mike took a moment then he rested his hand on the agent's shoulder. "Don — I've found wallowing in regret to be one hell of a waste of time. It solves nothing. The years the two of you lost are gone — there's nothing to be done about that. At this point, all _both_ of you can do is stop making the same stupid mistakes so you don't lose any more." He paused for a moment then he continued, "As for our relationship, it's true that we're family in ways you can't begin to fathom but, no matter how close we are — Charlie has only ever had _one _big brother and that my friend, is _you_. Go on out there and spend a little time with him but — a word of caution about what happened today…"

Mike waited for Don to turn and face him. He peered into the agent's eyes with a piercing gaze that left no doubt as to its meaning. "Don't try to fix things for him or make things better because, you can't — this is a road we have to walk alone. Usually, it's not so bad but sometimes we hit a pothole or two."

"Eppes, Charlie might just want to sit and look up at the stars or he might babble on about his damned math or his latest trip — or he might want to talk about today, but the decision has to be his. You can't push him. In either case, what he needs from you is not advice — he has me for that whether he wants it or not — what he needs from you is for you to just listen and to spend a little time with him." The marine suddenly punched Don on his upper arm and grinned, "There, you are now the recipient of yet another chapter of the gospel according to Donovan. This is a privilege reserved for insiders only so you should feel honored."

Don wasn't exactly what to say to that but before he got the chance to respond Will and Gus began strumming their Gibson Hummingbirds and singing '_Desperados Waiting for A Train.'_

"Someday I'm going to lose it, murder those two and not a fucking jury in the country would convict me," Mike muttered as he walked towards the kitchen.

Don took a moment, gathered his courage and with a quick breath he stepped out onto the dark porch, letting the screen door slam shut behind him.

T.B.C.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part 5

A wary Don Eppes made his way towards the black Range Rover parked a short distance from the house. He stopped directly adjacent to the SUV where Charlie lay reclining on its hood. He was propped up against the windshield with his head resting on his folded hands. He stared up at the night sky and did not bother to acknowledge his brother's presence.

Don looked up at the sky then down at the ground. He put his hands in his pockets and kicked at the loose gravel like a timid child. He was beginning to think Mike had been wrong about the situation and that he was indeed intruding on his younger brother's privacy, when Charlie wordlessly scooted over to one side to make room and Don climbed onto the hood. He laced his fingers together and lay back, mirroring his brother's stance.

For a long time neither of them spoke, they just lay quietly side-by-side. The night was dark since the moon had yet to rise over the mountains and an astonishing array of dazzling stars bejeweled the firmament that stretched endlessly above them. From inside the house Will and Gus finished their songand from across the way, Don heard a horse blow and whinny, the sound drifting in on the cool, gentle breeze.

"Nice night," Don said softly.

"Yeah, it is." Charlie agreed.

Don pursed his lips and blinked a couple of times. He was finding Mike's advice not to 'push' very difficult if not impossible to follow. To sit quietly and let things take whatever course they are going to take flew in the face of everything his Bureau training and years of dealing with perps had taught him.

On the job, when he needed answers during an investigation, special agent Eppes was relentless and without mercy. Many a suspect or reticent witness had underestimated his bulldog tenacity. They soon learned that if they were not cooperative, he figuratively grasped them in firmly in his jaws and verbally shook them like a chew toy until they told him what he needed to know — but Charlie was neither a suspect nor a witness. He was his little brother and he was troubled. Don took a deep breath, exhaled slowly — and waited.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Charlie nervously broke the oppressive silence, "Sooo … I talked with Dad last week. He sounds like he likes the condo but … you actually see him all the time. How's he REALLY doing?"

"He's doing great, Charlie!" Don said glad to have a subject they could discuss without feeling as if he were negotiating a minefield. "I haven't seen him this happy in years. He loves his new place. A lot of his friends live there and they are having a hell of a good time. He's constantly going out to lunch or going on short trips up the coast. And, of course he's playing golf every day. You know our old man and golf! He'd play in his sleep if he could."

Charlie smiled and nodded. Their father loved golf with a passion. He practically lived for the game and, as Charlie recalled, Don was an excellent player in his own right, though not as good as their father. Few outside of the pros were as good as Alan Eppes.

Once upon a time, in a well intentioned albeit misguided effort at bonding with his youngest son, the patriarch of the family Eppes had tried to teach Charlie to play but alas, it quickly became apparent the ancient game of the Scots was just not for him.

The mathematician's inborn predisposition to scrutinize every move in minute detail in an attempt to find a solution to his problems with the game was irritating to say very least. Once he even went so far as to pull out a notebook to work out an equation _while playing. _

Thisproved to be too much for even a loving father and he gladly released his son from their mutual hell of golf lessons. Besides, Alan was beginning to fear that if Charlie kept playing, the other two members of the foursome might follow through with their threat to beat the little duffer to death with their expensive TaylorMade clubs, weigh his body down with his own antiquated wooden ones and toss him in the water hazard.

For a long time Charlie felt like he had let his father down by not sharing the man's love of golf, but he was also very relieved to be banished from the foursome. No matter how hard he tried to feel differently, chasing a tiny ball around and whacking it with a stick trying to get it to fall in a hole was not something he would ever enjoy.

"I guess he's kicking everyone else's ass on a daily basis," the mathematician said.

"You know it! He and Art are in a tournament this week. I spoke with him just before we left and they were number two on the leaderboard. Moving into that condo was the best thing Dad could have done. He's having the time of his life and," Don grinned, "he's becoming quite the ladies' man. In fact, he has at least three girlfriends at last count."

"Yeah I heard about that. Looks like Alan Eppes still has game." Charlie said and they both laughed.

The laughter faded and the brothers again stared wordlessly up into the night sky. Don sensed that his little brother wanted to talk about something other than their father and his love of golf and he knew that all he could do was bide his time and after a short interval, his patience was rewarded.

"You know, none of this is what my life was supposed to be," Charlie said in a soft almost inaudible voice.

Don kept his eyes locked on the stars above saying nothing, afraid if he interjected some comment, his brother would again retreat behind one of his impenetrable shields and their conversation would turn to nothing more personal than some obscure mathematical theory.

"When I was young, I always assumed I would get married — probably to some quirky, boring professor or mathematician just like me … and after exactly the proper amount of time, we'd have exactly two equally quirky kids." Charlie paused for a second then he continued. "Don — I always knew that once you got your shit together you'd marry Robin, though I missed the mark on how many kids you'd have by a long shot and …"

Dom smiled and glanced at his brother who was still gazing up at the stars.

"… I always thought that we'd all be best the best of friends … that we'd go out to dinner on Saturday nights and maybe take trips together with our children, that we'd take them to Disneyland and to the beach."

"I could see them all playing together at the house and us yelling at them for charging up and down the stairs the same way Dad used to yell at us — remember, Don? _'Boys, slow down! You're going to break something if you don't break your necks first!'_" Charlie did a very good impression of their irascible father so many years ago.

"Yeah, buddy, I remember." Don said gently. "He wasn't wrong 'cause we _did_ break a few things and, if you recall, you _did_ take a header down those stairs a couple of time. You never got hurt though. You were a resilient little monkey."

"Considering some of the things we pulled, it's a wonder we made it to adulthood without a serious injury." Charlie shook his head as pictures from their childhood flashed through his mind. "I guess you breaking your arm when you tried to climb out your bedroom window because you were grounded and wanted to go to a party was the worst it got." 

Don laughed and rubbed his eyes, "Charlie, I don't mind telling you that now that I'm a father, I kind of feel bad about some of the things I put our parents through." Don affectionately punched his brother's arm. "_You_, though, you were such a good kid compared to…"

"Oh God," Charlie rolled his eyes. "I wasn't nearly the angel people thought. I was just much sneakier than you were and I never got caught. Maybe someday I'll clue you in on a few of my childhood exploits. I think the statute of limitations has run out — on most of them, anyway." He chuckled softly.

"You know," Charlie looked at his older brother, "when CalSci gave me full tenure at such a young age, I truly believed that I'd teach math there until I was so old I could barely hold a piece of chalk."

"Oh, I'd guest-lecture at other universities every once in a while but, CalSci would always be my home just like the Craftsman. Then someday, when I retired from active teaching and … being such a … a … so called _world renowned mathematician_, the university would offer me a small office so I could continue my work, which I would of course, humbly accept." His dark eyes glowed in the dim light as it occurred to both men just how terribly wrong he had been about all of that.

"I'd be this eccentric old ex-professor bumbling around the back halls of the math department until — at a very advanced age — I dropped dead, either at my board with a piece of chalk in my hand or by the koi pond at home, scribbling in my notebook." He looked away for a second and closed his eyes. "Don, we make choices in life and without even knowing it, set things into motion that takes us to places we never imagined we'd go. I had no idea that … even back then the life I thought I'd have … was already gone."

He fell silent for a long time. From inside the house, the soft sound of Will and Gus singing _'How She Could Sing the Wildwood Flower' _seemed to underscore the regret in his last statement.

"Charlie, I," Don swallowed and licked his suddenly dry lips. "Look, maybe I'm out of line in asking but…"

Charlie reached over and squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Sometimes, I get a little — lost." he smiled. "Kind of like Dad that time he went to the grocery and wound up in San Pedro instead."

Don opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Charlie continued. "Just rest assured that I always find my way home, so please — don't worry about me."

"Buddy, do you really think I'm going to stop worrying about you?" Don asked.

"Not really, big bro," Charlie looked back towards the stars. "I guess I'd be a little disappointed if you ever did."

"Don," Charlie said after a few minutes silence. "I've made some changes in the apartment since New Year's. I've … Alexia helped me with Dee's … things, boxing them up and giving them to charity. She'd have liked it that her things were helping people." He paused for a second. "It's …been difficult but I do sleep in my own bed again … most nights anyway. Sometimes I just can't but … it's getting better."

"I haven't replaced the painting yet … one step at a time I guess, and I had Will finish the mural in the baby's … I mean … the spare room. I thought it would make a great playroom for your kids when you come to visit, which I hope you will. I'd love to show your family the City and give you a real New York Experience. I mean what is more New York than a penthouse apartment over-looking Central Park. And…"

"Then we can arrange for you to get mugged in broad daylight and you can ride in cab with sticky floors that smells like god only knows what. And oh yeah, you can pay $8.00 for a damned cup of coffee, $20.00 for a watery beer and a lousy hotdog of dubious origins and pay as much for ONE ticket to a Broadway play — at which you will probably see the understudy instead of the star, by the way — as I paid for a month's rent when I lived in Biloxi." Mike Donovan exclaimed as he hopped on the hood and plopped himself down between the two brothers' crossed ankles.

Charlie only glared at his friend and Don looked at him in amusement.

"What?" Mike shrugged looking at his friend as if he had no idea why Charlie was perturbed. "Rock, you said you wanted to give them a _real New York Experience_. I was just helping you out."

From inside the house Will and Gus started strumming another song and Mike rolled his eyes, "I swear to God they never shut up," the marine huffed.

"They really are very talented," Don interjected in the pair's defense.

"Shh," Mike whispered, "We're aware of that but we never let them hear us say it. They're already insufferable enough. If they knew we liked their music, there would be no living with them."

Don turned his questioning eyes towards Charlie.

"Of course he's putting you on," Charlie said kicking at the larger man. "Do you always have to be a bastard?" He demanded.

"Yep!" was the answer. "Sure as hell is a beautiful night. Reminds me a little of Africa just not as damned hot." Mike said. "Rock, do you remember how that one preserve looked a lot like Georgia, red clay and all? Funny how some places can look like somewhere else. There you are sitting around a campfire on the African veldt half a world away listening to lions roaring in the distance. Your friends start playing some old song and suddenly you're an eighteen year old wet behind the ears recruit losing your virginity to a waitress from the Waffle House in the back seat of a Plymouth Duster parked by a lake outside of Albany, Georgia. I remember we were drinking warm Old Granddad out of Dixie cups and Willie Nelson was playing on the radio."

He seemed to be far away for a moment. "_Star Dust _… that was the song. Her name was Loretta. She had curly red hair, blue eyes and the palest skin I'd ever seen and damn, she sure as hell did teach a lonely young devil dog from Detroit a thing or two! The air smelled like sweet southern flowers and she spoke in a drawl as slow and thick as a Georgia summer night. She told me she wanted to see the world someday and get the hell out of the Waffle House." He chomped on a Cuban for a few seconds. "God, was it sweltering!"

"Georgia or Africa?" Don asked.

"Or the waitress?" Charlie added.

"All of em." Mike said with a sigh. "I ran into her again a few years ago. She was still a looker." He gazed out towards the mountains.

"Well," Charlie piped up impatiently. "Did she get out of the Waffle House and see the world?"

"Oh yeah, she sure as hell did! She signed up for a hitch in the US Navy. When I ran into Loretta, she was in Tokyo and that's a long damned way from Albany, Georgia. Guess when ya want something badly enough, you find a way to make it happen." He took a puff on his cigar. "Ya know, even after all these years I still can't drink cheap whisky without tasting Dixie cup and smelling a hint of honeysuckle and jasmine in the air."

As memories of Loretta and hot, humid southern nights faded into the past, Mike turned towards Charlie. "Well, boys, what say we snag Sonny and Cher, make a huge bowl of salt-laden buttered popcorn, grab us some beers and retire to the Bear's Cave for a few cigars and an action movie on the big screen? You know … all those fun things that doctors, health nuts and women hate?"

Don glanced at his watch and shook his head. "I don't know, it's been a long day and I think Robin's waiting …"

"Not a problem! I already cleared it with Lady Eppes so you are good to go for one exclusive guy's night out even if it is only as far the basement of Casa Jennet." Mike smacked Don's arm on exactly the same place he'd smacked him earlier.

"You went behind my back to my wife and …?" Don rubbed the spot where Mike's fist landed.

"When I'm dealing with men who are in relationships I've always found that going to the significant other first always saves a lot of fartin' around." Mike said smugly and slid from the car. "Come on. We're wasting precious guy time."

The two Eppes brothers looked at each other and then followed. Mike causally pushed himself between them and draped his arms over their respective shoulders.

"I thought you said there was no TV or DVD player here?" Don asked Charlie as they walked.

"I may have lied about that," Charlie chuckled.

"Figures," Don shook his head. "So, what movie are we going to watch?"

"We're gonna start with the best Christmas movie ever made!" Mike exclaimed.

"And that is?"

"_Die Hard_!" Charlie and Mike shouted in unison. 

**. . .**

The rest of the week went entirely too rapidly for all concerned. Not a minute was wasted. They would get up early and fill their days with exploring the ranch, riding horses, learning about the wildlife, and the fascinating history of the area.

Mrs. Perry taught the girls how to make dolls from cornhusks and all the kids helped her gather eggs from the chicken coop. They laughed at Mike's story about the first time Charlie helped to gather supplies for the morning meal and wound up being chased and spurred by a pissed off rooster.

Will Jennet taught them about the day-to-day life on a working ranch — _working_ being the operative word. For those who made their living from the land, the day began early and all too frequently went far into the night. It was hard work — 7 days a week, 365 days a year and the effects of that rugged life showed on his craggy, weathered face. Years of exposure to the blazing sun of summer and subfreezing, fierce wind and snow of hard winter had aged him beyond his years.

But if you looked into his bright, heavily lined eyes, you saw a joyful man. You saw a man burning with an ardent love of the land that his family had worked since frontier days: of flying and the exhilarating sense of freedom that it afforded him: of the men he called his brothers — his Pack: of the wolves he fought to save — and of _horses._ The passion he felt for the animals was best expressed in the words carved into a plaque displayed above the door of the stables:

_And God took a handful of the Southerly wind._

_Blew his warm breath over it_

_And created the horse._

The first time Will took Don and his family to the stables, the children — especially the little girls — fell in love with the horses and they became doubly excited when their uncle introduced them to his own horse — a magnificent, spirited black Arabian.

"What's his name, Uncle Charlie?" The kids asked awestruck with the idea that someone in _their_ family owned a real live _horse_!

"His _registered_ _AHA_ name is Carbonado's Once In a Blue Moon." Will jumped in before Charlie could answer. "They always give these fancy purebred horses ridiculous names." He grinned at his scowling young friend "We just call him Blue."

"Charlie," Don said as he reached out to stroke the animal's mane as his brother tightly held the reins. "You are full of surprises! I never thought you as a member of the — horsey set."

"Ya'll should see him all done up in his jodhpurs and high-falootin', polished English ridin' boots and little English saddle. He's adorable, like some kinda prince or somethin'." Gus piped up.

"I don't wear jodhpurs!" Charlie snapped at his friend then turned his attention back to his family, "Blue … _and the high-falootin' boots and the saddle _… were a gift," Charlie said, a small smile on his face. "From … someone very special who made me try all kinds of different things whether I wanted to or not. She always said that you should never let fear of failure limit your horizons. She taught me that you don't always have to be the best, that it's perfectly okay to just be average as long as you've tried your best and that not everything has to be about math or science. Sometimes it's good to do things just because they're fun like learning to ride a motorcycle — or riding a horse."

"Sounds like a wise woman." Don said looking into his brother's eyes.

The horse had placed his head over Charlie's shoulder and Charlie gently stroked him. "Yes, she certainly was." He said looking up at the animal nuzzling his cheek.

"Are we going to get to ride him?" Justin asked unable to take his eyes off the splendid animal.

Will quickly answered the boy's question. "Blue's not a mount for a new rider. I have some gentle trail horses set aside for you guys. I've taught a lot of people to ride on them … including your uncle. "

It was shortly after their first riding lesson that the kids began begging their parents to purchase a horse of their own. The fact they lived in a house in Pasadena and not on a ranch did not discourage them in the least. After all, Uncle Charlie lived in an apartment in New York City and _HE_ owned a horse!

"Kids, Uncle Charlie boards his horse with Uncle Will and I know that isn't cheap!" Don exclaimed.

"I'll say! I could have sent Blue to Princeton for what …" Charlie grunted when the pilot's elbow landed squarely in his ribs.

But the kids were not deterred in the least and Will watched in amusement as Don and Robin found themselves under-siege by children with a newfound love of all things equestrian and a long list of reasons why a horse would make an excellent pet. Finally, after the fun wore off, he decided to come to the beleaguered couple's rescue.

"With your permission, I think I can take the bloom off the rose a little as far as horses go," he said after taking Don aside. "They won't be in any danger but I can show them that owning a horse is far different from just riding one."

"Please, anything you can do!" Don quickly agreed hoping Will would be successful before he pulled his hair out by the roots.

The next day, just after their morning ride, as the kids dismounted and prepared to hand the reins over to one of the hands, Will stopped them.

"Not so fast, little partners," he said. "Your horses have given you an enjoyable time, now it's your turn to repay them."

With Will and the hand's help, they spent hours learning to how cool the animal down after a long ride. They then learned how to curry a horse and they watched as Will instructed them on how to clean the hooves with a hoof pick.

"You'll be able to do this yourself when you get used to being around horses and you can control 'em better." Will said cradling the hoof to avoid being kicked or knocked over. "You have to do this often. A bit of rock or glass could work its way into your horse's hooves and cause real trouble. Besides that, manure and packed bedding is just a breeding ground for germs."

"Horses are great animals but they take a lot care," he said as he worked. "And like your Uncle Gus, they may be huge but they can be fragile. They can hurt their ankles on rocky terrain. They can founder or get colic, and that is a very serious matter. I've spent a lot of sleepless nights sitting in a stall with an ailing horse — or an ailing Gus."

He finished the last hoof then tenderly stroked the animal's flanks. "You think your parents complain about the cost of caring for your dogs, that's nothing compared to what a horse costs! I don't think you'll be getting very many new toys or computers or ballet lessons. All that money will have to go towards feed, vet bills and having your horse shod. You don't buy horseshoes at the mall you know, and putting them on is a lot more complicated than puttin' shoes on your baby brother."

He explained to them that care of the animal its self was just the beginning. You then have to care for the expensive tack riding requires. Of course, he added, with proper care, a good leather saddle will last years and then he showed them what _proper care_ meant by giving them hands-on experience in how to clean a saddle from brushing off the dirt to washing it, to oiling the leather, to conditioning it.

By that time, Will could see that the children were beginning to change their minds about horse owner -ship but he wanted to make sure they were convinced and he knew the one thing that would _absolutely_ take the glamour out of horses.

"You can't housebreak or litter box train a horse," he exclaimed as he tossed yet another shovel of steaming manure into a wheel barrel. "During the day, we pasture 'em and let nature kind of that care of things for us but, when the weather's bad or to protect 'em from the wildlife around here, we stable 'em at night and then we have to muck out the stalls."

"I guess you won't have a pasture in Pasadena, will you? Too bad! Well, cleaning up your yard after a horse is pretty much the same as cleaning up after your dogs. It just takes a much bigger pooper-scooper and way it's more … ahh fragrant … and you'll have to do it far more often or your neighbors will complain. But hey, to a true horse-lover this smell is like some of that French perfume your mom favors." He turned a big grin on the children. "By the way, you'd be wise to get some boots and pants you can hose off 'cause no matter how hard you try to be careful, you always wind up wearing some." He causally lifted his feet one at a time and looked at the soles of his boots.

Charlie, Don and Robin were doing their best not to break into laughter at the way the horrified children were covering their noses and mouths in a futile attempt to block out the pungent smell of manure.

Charlie carefully made his way across the stall and sidled up alongside of Will, who was leaning on his shovel and whispered. "You know you're making this look a lot worse than it is." He whispered.

"Yeah and it's working. Look at their faces." Will said.

Charlie glanced at his appalled nieces and nephew. "I agree but take my advice," he sniffed at his friend and wrinkled his nose, "take a long, long shower and use aftershave … lots and lots of aftershave and …I'd burn those jeans if I were you."

Will narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, "Oh would you now? Maybe you should consider taking your own advice," He smirked.

The mathematician saw something in Will's sparkling eyes that he didn't like and he held up his hands in capitulation and took a step backwards. Unfortunately, he hadn't noticed Gus standing behind him. Charlie found himself falling as he tripped over the large man's extended foot.

He wildly pin-wheeled his arms frantically grasping at anything to break his fall but the only thing close enough took a giant step backwards and he soon lay sprawled on the floor — regrettably in a spot which had yet to enjoy the services of Will's shovel.

"I think we'd better hose you off too — _Lucy_!" Will shouted as a mortified Charlie, covered in rich and malodorous organic fertilizer stomped off amid hoots of laughter, muttering threats to murder anyone who posted the incident on YouTube.

…

Don leaned against the doorjamb and watched as his younger brother sat on his bed and brushed his freshly shampooed and blow-dried hair. It had been a couple of hours since the 'incident' in the stall and he hadn't seen Charlie since Mike hosed him off to remove the better part of the manure. He had then ducked into the house for a series of long, hot showers during which Will shouted at him at least once for using up all the hot water.

"I ahh," Don's mouth twitched as he again pictured Charlie smeared with a mixture of dung and hay. "I guess I owe you a huge thank you for …. ahhh taking one for the team, so to speak." He couldn't stand it any longer as he snorted in laughter and stumbled into the room.

Charlie stopped his grooming and gazed at his howling brother with a steady, unblinking icy glare.

"No, seriously," Don got hold of himself wiping his hand across his streaming eyes. "Seeing you and well, smelling you, the kids have decided to wait on owning a horse until we move to a farm with a big pasture, which will never happen so that ends that idea." He walked across the room and sat on the opposite side of the bed from Charlie.

Reaching out he, tried to touch the smaller man's shoulder but Charlie pulled away. "Hey, I'm sorry for laughing but it's just that you've always been kind of … squeamish about things and to see _you_ of all people covered in … I'm sorry but that was funny!"

Charlie turned his back and ran his fingers through his slightly damp unruly curls. "Don, a little horseshit is the least of what I've dealt with over the years. I'm hardly what you would call … squeamish anymore." He stood and tossing his brush onto the dresser, he walked around the foot of the bed and towards the door.

Don, coming to the realization that Charlie was truly upset over this latest joke at his expense, became genuinely concerned. "Charlie, come on! Don't get like …" he said contritely."I really am sorry I laughed. I swear didn't mean anything by it!"

Charlie stopped in the doorway well aware that with his back to Don, his brother could not see the devilish light gleaming in his dark eyes or the way the corners of his mouth had turned up just a tad. "You know, big brother," he said in the same tone that sent chills down the backs of overconfident recruits or, students who were a little too full of themselves. "Uncle Charlie is a very wealthy, very generous man and I'll wager your kids would change minds about not wanting a horse if one were to be delivered to their house with a great big bow around its neck."

"You wouldn't!" Don was on his feet but Charlie was walking away. He charged after the younger man. "Tell me you're joking! Promise me you won't do that! Charlie, you know we can't have a …a… _**horse**_ in our _**backyard**_ in _**PASADENA**__!_" Don was so frantic, he was stammering.

Charlie considered stringing his older brother along for a while longer but Don sounded almost ready to hyperventilate so he decided to show mercy and let him off the hook. "Or perhaps I'll just hire a circus to entertain at your next birthday complete with elephants and a gigantic red and white striped tent." Charlie looked at Don, his eyes wide open and a smirk on his face — and Don knew he'd been played.

Relieved, the agent grinned and grabbed his younger brother by the shoulder giving him a gentle shake. "Buddy, you really had me going there for a while."

"I really did, didn't I?" Charlie said proudly. It wasn't often he put one over on Don and he was going to enjoy the moment. "I guess we'd better head downstairs before Mrs. Perry comes looking for us." Charlie said.

"I guess we'd better hurry. I think I heard Gus and Will mention something about YouTube." Don said.

"The bastards!" Charlie shouted and rushed downstairs, a grinning Don at his heels.

TBC

Just one more chapter to go! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story to its conclusion. I really do appreciate it.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home want

ing nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. It's gone on a bit longer than I intended but if Charlie, Don and the guys don't want to give it up just yet.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part Six

Charlie Eppes sipped his morning coffee and munched on a piece of lightly buttered toast. He said nothing and the look on his face could best be described as enigmatic as he turned his attention from one member of his family to the other as they enthusiastically expounded on which part of their vacation, which was quickly coming to an end, they liked best.

For the girls, it was without a doubt the horses. All things equine had dominated their conversation since their first riding lesson pushing their beloved American Girls Dolls to second place. Both of them adored the horses! Amanda in particular was so taken with the animals that she fully intended on owning her own ranch someday and raising Arabians just like her uncle's beautiful horse, Blue … that is when she wasn't busy being a world renowned prima ballerina along with her sister.

Justin couldn't say enough about the airplanes and the helicopter. His dark eyes lit up as he explained for the tenth time to anyone who would listen about how to use trigonometry and geometry to figure angles of descent or ascent and banking radiuses and how to avoid a hazard five miles ahead if your airspeed is this and your altitude is that. He wanted to be a pilot like Uncle Will.

"And a mathematician too!" He added quickly afraid he had hurt his real uncle's feelings but relaxed when Charlie gave him a wink and a positive thumbs-up.

The littlest of the crew, David enjoyed playing with the dogs or slamming out discordant notes on the piano or banging on an old pot with a wooden spoon — that is until his father made him stop — but his favorite thing of the entire trip was Uncle Bear, as the kids had come to call Gus. Just the sight of him made David giggle and jump up and down shouting, "Unca Bear, Unca Bear! Pway with me!" And he'd rush to the big man who would joyfully scoop him up and spin him around.

Both Don and Robin found their sweet little one's love of a man whose imposing appearance had stricken terror into the hearts of some really bad people the world-over both perplexing and amusing but Charlie understood. He had learned long ago that children and animals intuitively saw past the grizzly bear size and intimidating features to the kind, gentle man underneath and that children and animals … especially cats … instinctively loved Big Gus.

"Daddy," Amanda and Amy suddenly shouted making their father jump. "What did you and mommy like best about the ranch?"

Don locked eyes with his beautiful wife who was looking uncharacteristically coy and he saw her cheeks turn pink. He glanced at his brother who was looking at him with an impish grin on his face and one eyebrow was lifted Spock-like towards his forehead. He was also aware of three other pairs of eyes watching him in anticipation of what he was going to say. The trouble was that he suddenly found himself at a total loss for words because both Robin and his favorite part of their vacation had not included their children at all.

Their favorite part occurred a couple of days earlier when Don found himself confronted by four men bearing a picnic basket of scrumptious smelling food, a loaf of homemade French bread still warm from the oven, a bottle of fine Chardonnay, a bottle of Champagne, a satellite phone and a set of keys.

_"Eppes, we have a gift for you and her Ladyship." Mike said in his usual sardonic manner. _

_Don was instantly on guard. His eyes narrowed. "And what would that would be?" _

_Charlie sensed his less than circumspect partner was about to open his often-tactless mouth and say something completely out of line so before Mike got the chance to speak again, Charlie stepped in front of his friend cutting him off. "Don, we were thinking that, well, you and Robin are great parents and you both obviously live for your kids but even perfect parents need a break every now and again. It is evident to us that the two of you could use a little … grown-up time." _

_Don only looked at him with an almost glacial Are-you-sure-you-want-to-continue-on-your-present-course stare, which the younger man chose to ignore._

_"There's a guesthouse in the foothills about an hour's drive east of here. It's the kind of place I think Robin will love. It's … you know, romantic with a huge bed and a log fireplace." Charlie smiled at the expression on his conservative brother's face at the mention of the huge bed. "The place comes supplied with scented candles and there may even be an old Sade CD lurking somewhere. And there's a garden bathtub big enough for two. It's perfect for a man and a woman to be, well — a man and a woman." He paused for a second. "Dee and I used to stay there and she liked Sade and …" he cleared his throat. "Anyway…you'll both love it."_

_"Charlie, are you sure about this? You've been around our kids enough to know that they can be a handful." _

_Mike dismissed Don's well-intentioned warning with a wave of his hand. "Eppes, we've ran black-ops and tackled insurrections, revolutions, gunrunners, drug lords, despots and lowlifes all over the world. I think we can handle a toddler, a math whiz and a couple of precious little princesses." _

_Don didn't look nearly as sure about that fact as the Pack but it had been a long time since he and Robin had spent a night alone and the offer was just too good to turn down. _

_"Here," Charlie shoved the basket into his brother's arms and handed him the phone and the keys. "For once, don't argue, just go — grab your beautiful wife and go. The directions are programmed into the GPS on the phone — I may have slightly broken the one in the SUV. Oh, and by the way, here's a little suggestion from your math geek brother's not so vast romantic experience … take along a sleeping bag … ONE sleeping bag." He cocked his head to the side and actually managed to look innocent as he continued. "There's nothing and no one for miles around out there and indulging in a little carnal bliss out under the stars …" Charlie had the decency to not provide further details as to what he meant by carnal bliss. "Just take the sleeping bag. Believe me, you'll thank me later. " _

_Flustered by the fact that his younger brother had offered him unsolicited and suggestive advice on romancing his wife, Don just stood there clutching the basket, his lips slightly parted, and his expression frozen. Finally, unable to think of a response that wouldn't make the awkward situation worse, he stammered his thanks and dashed off to give Robin the good news. He only hoped she would be as excited as he was at the prospect of a night alone but it was difficult to predict how she would react. As much as she loved her husband, when it came to their children — she was as protective as a mother tiger. _

_As it turned out, his concerns proved to be unfounded. In anticipation of the lovely Lady Eppes' possible reticence in leaving her precious offspring in the care of a bunch of gruff old soldiers she barely knew, Charlie and Mike joined forces and shot a pre-emptive volley over her bow before confronting Don with their offer. The mathematician assured her that he and the Pack would keep a watchful eye on the children. After all, he loved his nieces and nephews and he would never let them come to any harm._

_"I'm still not sure…" Robin's doubtful eyes were locked on the marine. _

_Charlie slipped a brotherly arm around his sister-in-law's slim shoulders. "I understand your hesitation but wouldn't it be nice to spend a few hours away from the responsibilities of being a parent … just you and Don … alone in a rose-covered cottage? It would be sort of like a — mini-honeymoon." _

_Robin had taken a deep breath. "It has been a long time since we've been able to spend time together without being interrupted by a crying baby or a child waking up sick or with a nightmare. We were only married for a few months when I found out I was pregnant with Justin so we've either been caring for small children or I've been pregnant for most of our marriage. I love my children, Charlie but they do change things in … that … area." She shyly covered her face with her hand. "I don't believe I'm discussing this with you." _

_"Sounds like you two are long over-due for a break." Charlie said. "So … come on Robin, live a little. Offers like this don't come along very often! It's only for one night!" _

_"You're right, they don't come along very often and it is just for one night ..." She hesitated for only a second longer then she threw up her hands in surrender. "Yes, I'll go but how will you persuade Don? He's even more over-protective than I am."_

_"Don't worry about big bro — I have a plan!"_

_"Oh God, did Eppes bring his gun? We're all gonna die!" Mike jokingly interjected._

_Charlie shot him a nasty look. "Just pack a bag for the two of you and be ready to go in about an hour!" Charlie said his eyes bright with glee and to Robin's amusement, he and Mike scurried from the room babbling and laughing like a couple of high school boys about to execute a nefarious plot against their more staid elders. _

_And true to his word, within an hour's time, Charlie had accomplished his goal and Special Agent and Lady Eppes were in the car, both of them as excited and nervous as they had been on their first date so many years before._

_"Charlie," Robin let down the window and leaned out as Don turned the key and the engine roared to life, "if the kids give you any problems…"_

_"Don't worry, they'll be fine," Charlie said then he nonchalantly opened the rear door and shoved a rolled up sleeping bag into the backseat pointedly ignoring Don's discomfited expression. He then slammed the door shut, stepped back and waved as the car pulled away from the house. _

_"We __**can**__ handle looking after four cute kids for a few hours, can't we Rock?" Mike asked as he watched the car seemingly growing smaller as it disappeared into the distance._

_"It'll be a snap." Charlie said. "They're just little kids, Mike. How hard can watching them be?"_

_And as if on cue he had his answer. David chose that moment to throw a tantrum like only a small child could. He kicked and screamed until he turned crimson then he lay on the ground, his face contorted in an angry scowl, his thumb shoved firmly in his mouth. _

_Amy and Amanda both decided they wanted to ride a roan horse named June Bug. Neither one of them was willing to accept any other mount. They made sure everyone was well aware of that fact at the top of their lungs. _

_Justin wanted nothing to do with horses, his sisters, his brother or his uncles… by blood or otherwise … and he displayed his displeasure with the entire situation by indulging in what threatened to become a protracted sulk which Mike pronounced to be worthy of Dr. Charles Eppes himself. The petulant boy parked his ass on the top step … dead in the center of course, forcing everyone to have to walk around him to get on or off the porch … and he refused to talk to or even acknowledge anyone else's existence._

_The U.S. Marine gunnery sergeant who had dealt with young recruits in the toughest of combat conditions ran his hands over his precisely sheared head. "Little partner," he asked dejectedly after assessing the circumstances, "what the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" _

_At that moment, shrill voices rang out and both men turned to see the pilot trying to reason with two very strong-willed little girls but to no avail. The War of the Twins raged on unabated. _

"_It's my turn to choose first, Amanda, and I want to ride June Bug!" The dainty little girl shouted at her sister._

_Will knelt between the glowering children. "Girls, there's no need to argue. I have lots of horses! I'm sure you can each find one…" _

"_No! And it's not her turn! __**Amy**__ chose first last time!" Amanda was vigorously shaking her head. "It's my turn to ride June Bug!"_

_Charlie placed a sympathetic hand on Mike's broad shoulder. "You could make them drop and give you twenty or you could send them on a fifteen mile ruck march. That's how you brought me into line."_

_Mike gritted his teeth. "Don't tempt me, Charlie!" He hissed. "For all our sakes, don't tempt me!" _

_Charlie gave the shoulder a pat, "I've got this one, Gunny," he said and he took a moment to wipe the smirk off his face. _

_"Ladies, that is quite enough!" His voice was stern and his bearing said he would stand for no more nonsense from any of them. "Since you cannot share, the riding lesson is over! Uncle Gus is going to put David down for a nap, you are going to help him, and then you are going to take one yourselves. Later, if you apologize to each other and to Uncle Will then maybe you can take a short ride but no one gets to ride June Bug, now, follow me!" _

_He marched across the yard towards the porch with the now silent girls, Gus and David in tow. He stood at the foot of the steps with his hands on his hips. "Justin, if you don't want to talk then you don't have to but you are not going to block everyone's way — it's dangerous and it's rude! Please remove yourself from the porch and go to your room and do something constructive such as reading or work on your math. And I mean now — __**all of you**__." _

_"Yes Uncle Charlie!" The kids and Gus all scrambled as fast as they could into the house giving their scowling uncle anxious glances as they passed. The screen door slammed shut and peace once again settled over the ranch._

_Mike only looked at Charlie who smugly climbed the stairs and settled down on the porch swing. He gave it a push so it swung gently back and forth. "They're good kids. They only needed to know that their boundaries are the same with us as they are when their parents are here and that they can't push us around." He laced his fingers behind his neck._

_"Professor Eppes — I am impressed but I think you scared poor Gus more than the kids." Mike sat next to his friend._

_"I think I did too," Charlie snorted. "But isn't it nice and quiet." _

…

Two days later, sitting at the breakfast table with his children anxiously waiting for an answer to their innocent question, Don felt his ears turn red as a slide show from that night popped unbidden into his head. For a few precious hours, he and Robin had been free to express their passion as often and as loudly as they wished. There was no reason to practice restraint or lock doors for fear of curious little ones' awakening and coming to find out why mommy and daddy were making so much noise.

He could clearly picture his wife as they made love in front of the fireplace, in the huge, cloud-like over-sized bed and in the sleeping bag spread beneath a star-filled sky. '_Bless you little brother; we owe you big-time for that idea.' _Don thought. It had been heaven to be, as Charlie had so simply put it … a man and a woman.

"Daddy!" Justin insistently pulled at his father's sleeve. "What part of the ranch did you and mommy like best?"

Don looked at Robin hoping she would step in and help him out but judging from the amused expression on her face, his dear wife knew exactly where his thoughts lay and was enjoying his discomfort far too much to come to his rescue.

He cut his eyes towards Charlie who had one elbow on the table, his cheek resting against his fist and a Cheshire cat grin on his self-satisfied face.

"The hayrides," Don blurted out. "Mommy and I loved the … hayrides."

"We all like a … hayride every now and again." Will uttered as he slowly stirred sugar into his coffee. "Though I guess they aren't as lively as they once were and the opportunity don't come around nearly as often."

"Yeah, it has been a while," Charlie sighed. "A really, really, really long while. I think we had a different President the last time I was invited on a … hayride … and Mike was experimenting with that beard that made him like Randy Orton cross-bred with a billy goat."

Gus nodded. "An' if you've been spendin' time with our good friend from Lynchburg, Tennessee, it sort o' cuts into things. Not like twenty years ago, when you could enjoy ol' JD's company all night long and still be up for three or maybe four … hayrides. Now a lot o' the time, it's one and done and you're snorin' afore one A.M."

"I still remember what Grandpa Jennet told me on that last camping trip before I left home." Will looked wistful. "Enjoy the … hayrides … now boy, 'cause one day you're gonna wake up and find out your … horse … has gone lame."

"Are the three of you finished discussing the facts of … hayrides and the middle-aged American male?" Mike scolded. "And little partner, as for my beard, I wouldn't talk if I were you. As I recall, about that same time you let Alexia try some new concoction she got from France on your hair and you wound up looking like Barbra Streisand in _A Star is Born_."

Charlie didn't respond but judging from the daggers in his eyes, Don had a feeling Mike was soon going to regret that remark.

"Hayrides are fun!" The children joyfully shouted in unison and then were completely baffled by the adults who all burst into gales of laughter and Charlie good-naturedly punched his brother on the upper arm.

After the laughter died down, the conversation turned to less lascivious topics than '_hayrides_'. Will announced he was buying the adjacent ranch along with a herd of cattle and ten horses; Gus was getting some work done to Maw-Maw's little place. The kitchen badly needed renovating and so did the bathrooms. He already had a couple of bids from contractors but he wanted one more to make sure he got the best deal; As for Mike, the roof on his house needed replacing. Normally, he'd simply do the work himself but his 'pushy, citified new neighbor' had other ideas.

"I built that house from the ground up so I'm more that competent and it would be far cheaper to replace it myself but, as has been repeatedly pointed out to me, Bob's a veteran … an ex-marine in fact. He's had his problems adjusting like a lot of us have but he's a good man with a wife and kids to support and he's struggling to get his business off the ground so … I guess I'll hire him. Besides, coughing up the money is easier and a hell of a lot quieter than listening to this one harp and nag." He nodded affectionately towards Charlie. "I guess we should be grateful it's stray people you've taken to adopting or we all might be up to our asses in … I don't know … dozens of cats."

Charlie only sniffed and took a sip of coffee.

The elder Eppes brother chuckled remembering how one of Charlie's most endearing qualities had always been his big-hearted propensity for helping others even if it occasionally got him into hot water. He then turned his attention back to the others feeling deeply grateful that the conversation had switched from the romantic night he had spent with his wife to the far more mundane topics of purchasing land and live-stock, home improvement and leaky roofs.

Don wasn't a prude — exactly — but allusions to his love life — however amiable and however harmless the intent — was causing him a certain amount of uneasiness. Robin however, didn't seem to share his discomfort. Whenever their eyes met, she winked and blew him a kiss causing her husband to inwardly cringe in fear that she would draw even more dreaded attention their way.

His eyes surreptitiously scanned from one member of the Pack to the other as he silently prayed no one had taken notice of his usually discrete wife's inexplicable coquettish behavior. Don was beginning to relax thinking perhaps they were home-free until his gaze lit on Charlie and that fleeting hope was quickly dashed by a knowing smile and a pair of eyes that held his for a moment then, feigning ignorance, turned his attention back to his friends and their easy back and forth banter. Don took a deep breath and bit the inside of his cheek. A few minutes later, he glanced at Charlie again and his eyes slowly narrowed.

The younger Eppes brother was listening … seemingly … to the conversation of his friends. He held a coffee mug in both hands and now both his elbows were resting on the table. As he listened, he rhythmically tapped the mug with the index finger of his right hand — _tap-tap-tap_ — a pause then — _tap-tap-tap_ again. His shoulders weren't exactly tense but they weren't relaxed either and his eyes were focused — but not on his friends — they were focused on some point deep inside his own head.

Don knew this far-away look well. Charlie was either working through some complex mathematical theory or he was plotting something and was working out the details. Either way, he knew from bitter experience that when his genius kid brother was in this mode, he had no conception of real-time. He was too lost in that remarkable maze that was his mind and he could stay lost for hours, days or even weeks. Don drummed his fingernails on the table, a clear warning sign to anyone who knew him well. His deep brown eyes grew even darker. Charlie had slipped into CharlieLand and his older brother was not at all in the mood to allow it.

Using his most commanding Federal officer's voice Don suddenly yelled, "**CHARLIE!**" He slammed his open hand down hard — very hard — on the table inches from Charlie's elbows causing the dishes to rattle and everyone else to shout and jump in surprise … everyone that is except the object of his ire who merely turned a cool gaze in Don's direction cocking his head slightly to one side.

"Okay, buddy, return to planet Earth and spit it out, _what_ are you up to?" The FBI agent demanded a little more aggressively than he intended.

Barely fazed by what others might consider an over-reaction on Don's part, the younger Eppes brother nonchalantly took another sip of coffee, slowly and deliberately sat the mug down, and lacing his fingers, he rested his folded hands on the table. "Remember when I told all of you that I had a big surprise but that you had to wait until the time was right before I could give it to you?" He looked at each of them in turn.

The kids nodded expectantly.

"Well … the time is now right!"

"What's the surprise, Uncle Charlie!" The kids all shouted bouncing up and down in their seats.

Charlie smiled indulgently. "Not so fast! There are several parts to the surprise. The first part is that we are going to pack up the van and take a drive out by the lake where you will get to spend the night in a real log cabin."

"This is the original house built by my great, great grandfather way back in the old Wild West days. Of course I've restored it and I've added a wood floor, running water and modern plumbing so you don't have to be concerned about roughing it." Will looked at the girls who obviously were not avid campers.

Charlie continued. "We're going to take some food and cook over a campfire. You'll get to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor or if you'd rather, the couch does pull out into a bed."

"We want to sleep in sleeping bags!" The kids all shouted.

"Okay, sleeping bags it is!" Charlie laughed.

"When are we leaving?" Justin asked.

"Just as soon as we clean up the kitchen and pack!" Charlie answered.

The children sprang into action as the adults stood back and watched in marked amusement. Robin commented that she had never seen them so eager to clean nor had she ever seen them finish their chores so quickly and without grumbling or arguing even once.

Two hours later a frowning Don stood on the porch beside his wife and baby feeling a little disappointed that Robin had decided to … as she put it, 'Sit this one out.'

"Are you sure you don't want to come? Sounds like it might be fun." Don once again asked his wife as the last of the camping equipment was loaded into the van. "It's not like you'll be sleeping in a tent. It's a cabin with real plumbing and everything." He kissed her gently on the cheek and put his arms around her and the whimpering child she held.

"I know sweetheart and don't get me wrong; I love your brother and his friends but I need a little alone time without a bunch of guys around and David's been really fussy all morning — I think he may be teething. He needs some quiet time as much as I do. Besides, Will has offered me the use of the hot tub. The thought ofrelaxing inhot bubbly water then curling up in bed to read a good book trumps sleeping on the floor of a log cabin, even if it does have … _real plumbing and everything_."

"I guess I can understand that, still, I'll miss you." he said kissing her and lovingly caressing his baby's delicate cheeks. "We'll be back late tomorrow afternoon … so enjoy your hot tub but be careful. It's not healthy to soak in those things for too long. It's easy to get relaxed and fall asleep … and remember to tie your hair up. Long hair can get sucked into the …"

"Don, I think I know how to use a hot tub!" Robin cupped his cheek in her free hand. "Charlie is right; you are such a mother hen!" She whispered. '_And I wouldn't have you any other way_.' She thought as she gazed at her adoring husband.

Don rolled his eyes and shrugged admitting guilt. It was his nature to try to protect those he loved and that would never change. He kissed his wife first then his baby, who was now resting his head on his mother's shoulder quietly sucking his thumb and looking like a drowsy little cherub. He gave Robin another quick kiss and then he ran down the steps and climbed in the backseat of the van next to his younger brother.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. It's gone on a bit longer than I intended but if Charlie, Don and the guys don't want to give it up just yet.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part Seven

"I was not much older than you are now, Justin, when I accompanied my father and grandpa on my first cattle drive," Will Jennet explained as he carefully maneuvered the van along the barely-existent dirt road leading to the cabin. "I had gotten a quarter horse named Bobby Joe for my birthday that year and Grandpa said it was as good a time as any to break him — and me — in."

"What's a quarter horse, Uncle Will?" Amanda asked.

"That's a kind of horse specially bred and trained to cut cattle. They are very quick-footed and can turn on a dime and come to a complete stop from a full gallop real fast. They're fun to ride but getting the hang of it takes a little practice." Will explained. "Just ask your uncle there. He has firsthand knowledge as to how agile they are. He must have hit the dirt twelve times his first day riding one."

"Yeah well, you could have warned me that the thing had power steering and power brakes," Charlie huffed and sniffed at the laughter of his friends.

Will grinned then went on with his story. "When I turned fifteen, it became my job to ride the fence-lines out in the back pasture-lands repairing the barbed wire and rounding up strays. My best friend, Carter, and me would be out here alone for a week — sometimes two — at a time. In the winter the snow could be four feet deep and the wind would nearly knock us out of our saddles." His eyes grew a little misty as he remembered his boyhood. "And in the spring, it'd rain so hard we couldn't see past our noses and when we dismounted, we'd sink up to our ankles in the mud."

Amy gasped in horror. "That sounds awful, Uncle Will! Why was your daddy so mean to you? Didn't he love you?"

"Honey," the pilot glanced in the rearview at the little girl in the seat behind his, "Dad wasn't being mean — that's how just how it is working on a ranch and teaching me the value of working hard and how to face tough times straight on is how he showed his love. Thanks to Dad and Grandpa, I can fix nearly anything with whatever is available and I can feed myself by catching fish and hunting if I have to — and I've had to. He used to tell me that if I honed my instincts and learned to read the signs, I'd always be one step ahead of rough weather… if I learned to use my hands, I'd always have shelter and if I could live off the land, I'd never go hungry."

"I loved every second of growing up here. I never would have left except for Grandpa's rule — when you came of age, you made your way all on your own for a while. You got a job, went to college or joined the military and spent some time in the world before you settled down to full-time ranching. Guess I chose to do all three." A smile crossed his craggy face. "And now that I've talked your ears off, we're here." He slowly pulled the van to a halt about twenty yards from a small cabin situated beside an immaculate crystal-clear lake.

"Wow!" Justin whispered softly as they piled out of the van and looked around.

The air was fresh and clean and they were surrounded by endless green, rolling hills dotted with jagged rock formations and speckled with a multitude of divergent varieties of wild flowers. There was no sound except for the wind and the water splashing against a rustic pier. Four tethered canoes bobbed and rocked with the gentle current and a hawk soared over-head, circling in the bright, blue sky hunting for a tasty morsel to take home to its nest.

Don took his sunglasses off and looked around in awe wishing Robin hadn't decided to stay behind. "Wow is right, Justin! Will, this place is unbelievable!"

"I always thought so." Will gave his guests a few minutes to enjoy their first look at the lake then he ran his hands through his unkempt hair. "Well folks, as Grandpa Jennet always said, work first then play. Let's unload the van and set up camp."

The kids and Don grabbed their sleeping bags and backpacks and took them into the cabin. Charlie grabbed the remaining gear and placed it in a pile near the lake while Mike and Gus gathered firewood from the stack behind the cabin, and carefully arranged it in the middle of a circle of stones and skillfully started a campfire.

By then, it was lunchtime and the campers, young — and not so young — were all equally famished. They gathered around the fire and the men taught the kids how to skewer a hotdog and hold it in the flames until it was crisp on the outside and hot, and juicy on the inside. More than one unlucky frank wound up tumbling to a fiery destruction before it found its way to a bun but no one cared — they were all having too much fun cooking them and the kids declared that campfire cooked hotdogs had to be the best hotdogs in the world.

After lunch, Mike suggested that Will and Gus take the Eppes family on a walking-tour of the surrounding area. "There's some interesting things to see around here," he said. "You might even spot some animals like a deer or even an elk!"

"Aren't you and Uncle Charlie coming?" Justin asked as they put bottles of water in Gus's backpack for the hike.

"Uncle Mike and I have a couple of things we need to discuss," Charlie said. "It's boring business stuff so you guys go ahead and have a good time. When you get back, it'll almost be time for me to give you my surprise — now; you'd better get moving before it gets to be too late."

With the rancher and Gus leading the way, the crew made their way up the hill behind the cabin. Will set a leisurely pace knowing his companions were not used to rugged trails nor were they acclimatized to the altitude and, though they weren't all _that_ high up, the thinner air could prove tiring to those used to living at much lower elevations.

Along the way, he stopped often and pointed out which of the myriad varieties of grasses, plants, flowers were editable, and which were poisonous to man … and horses for that matter. They didn't see any animals, but they did see lots of tracks and what Gus called 'fresh scat' — which caused the girls to wrinkle their noses in disgust — showing that a rabbit, a fox or much larger wildlife had passed that way very recently.

Will took that opportunity to teach them how to tell a rabbit track from a fox — or an elk's from a deer's. Farther along the trail, he pointed out ruts left in the rocks by the Conestoga wagons that had passed that way well over a century before.

Some were pioneer families making their way west; others were the outcast and disenfranchised following rumors of vast riches most would never find; but whether it was land to farm or gold to mine, all were seeking the same thing — a better life than the one they had left behind.

It was then that Will noticed Justin looked a little winded so he decided to let them rest for a little while before climbing the steep, rock- strewn rise to a small, church complete with a tall white steeple and a single bronze bell.

"Was this built by pioneers?" Amanda asked shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand as she looked up at the steeple.

"No, honey, not this one. The original church was built around 1890 but it burnt down a couple of years later. This one was built in 1912 and the bell was put in place in 1918." Will said.

"Do they really have services way out here?" Don asked looking around and seeing nothing but hills and meadows in all directions.

"They did, when all of this was divided into small homesteads but that was long ago. Now days … there's only funerals held here." Will answered.

He led them past an iron gate and into the small churchyard. "This is my family cemetery. Jennets have been buried here for generations. My grandparents are here as are my parents and my twin brother, Mark … he died when he was one and Mom passed the following year … but that's not why we're here. There are some really old graves dating back to just after the Civil War that I thought you might enjoy seeing."

He led them to a row of ragged and worn markers. There he read some of the inscriptions … a few of which were hilarious but perhaps not exactly respectful and for one in particular he had to clean up the language a little since he didn't want to have to explain the departed lady's chosen profession to Don's kids and on a couple, the inscriptions were sad and beautiful … almost poetry.

Finally, he led them to a simple wooden cross tucked away in the far corner of the cemetery. It was flaking and weathered by the cruel passage of time and exposure to the mercilessly fierce elements. On it — barely legible — was a crudely carved name — _Jake Jennet — _and nothing else.

"My great, great, grandpa," Will said reverently, "He brought his family over the plains in a covered wagon and settled this land. He built the cabin you're sleeping in now."

For a few minutes, even the children stood in respectful silence.

"Uncle Will," Justin asked when the pilot started to walk towards the gate, "who's buried over there?"

He pointed towards a stand of Quaking Aspens where a row of identical small headstones stood all in a neat, straight row. They faced east so that each morning, sun's first rays illuminated the names neatly chiseled into smooth white marble.

In the distant future, Justin would have the answer to his question but not on that day — Will ended the tour. "We'd better be getting back before it gets dark." He turned to lead them back to camp.

It took them nearly two and a half hours to retrace their steps to the cabin. There they found Charlie and the marine kicked back in front of the fire sipping cups of hot coffee and talking quietly. The small group of tired but happy hikers grabbed fresh bottles of water from the ice-filled cooler and joined them.

Don half hoped the long walk over rough trails that had wound uphill and downhill and though narrow, rocky passages had tired his little brood out and that they would lay down for a quick nap giving him a breather but no such luck was to come his way. Instead, once they had their water and a snack, they seemed more energetic than ever and they soon joined in the spirited game of keep-away Will and Charlie had began with Uncle Bear's bandanna.

…

Don Eppes discreetly and quietly crept away from the campfire to observe the fun from what he hoped was a safe distance. Leaning back against the van, he crossed his legs at the ankles and jammed his hands in his jeans pockets watching in delight as his twin girls, his oldest son and three grown men ran in circles around each other, passing a red bandanna from one to the other. It was close to dusk and the sun would soon set.

He chuckled as Will Jennet scooped Justin up and twirled around and around as they played a game they called helicopter, causing the boy to shriek with laughter. When the pilot gently placed him back on his feet, a dizzy Justin stumbled and fell as the girls pirouetted and giggled.

"Daddy, did you see me fly?" He shouted waving at his amused father.

"Yes, I did, son. That was great." Don shouted waving back.

The FBI agent's face crinkled in a grateful grin. It warmed his heart to see his quiet, studious, introverted son laughing aloud, running, getting dirty and playing in a way a boy his age _should_ play. He was overjoyed to see him doing something — _anything_ — other than pouring over books and equations even though — as Charlie had explained to him numerous times over the years — for people like them, mastering math and science _is_ fun!

To a degree, Don understood that and he was coming to terms with the fact that Justin would, in all likelihood, be more like his uncle than he would his father, but mental images from the past of Charlie always studying, even when his parents encouraged him to go outside and play, haunted him. He wanted Justin to have more of a normal childhood than the one Charlie had experienced. He didn't want to look down one day and see an over-worked, over-achieving ten year old adult looking back.

The agent shook his head snickering at the raucous bunch charging around in the fading light of day. He hadn't been sure about this trip at first. In fact, he had been consumed by serious doubts and reservations as to wisdom of spending a week isolated on a ranch with a brother with whom he was just getting reacquainted and three threatening men he didn't trust in the least, but now — on the next to last day — he almost didn't want it to end. The vacation he dreaded had become one of the best he and his family had ever taken.

Don was enjoying his musings and his momentary solitude when he found his space invaded as the remaining member of their party joined him. The marine coolly pulled a Cuban from his pocket, offered one to Don — who naturally refused the offer — lit it, then leaned against the van.

"Eppes," Mike said with a brusque nod of his sheered head.

"Donovan," Don answered with an equally brusque reciprocal nod of his own.

"What are you doing over here by all yourself?" Mike asked looking around as if scanning for something sinister lurking in the shadows.

"Just keeping an eye on my children," Don answered, his eyes focused on his family but his guard was instantly up. "What are you doing over here?"

About that time, Gus grabbed the bandanna from Will and waving it in the air, he did a boisterous victory dance. Not be vanquished in their impromptu game, Charlie and Will linked arms and shouting, "Let's get Uncle Bear!" they charged taking the big man down and piled on his prone body gasping at the scarlet headgear.

The kids began jumping up and down, clapping and yelling when Charlie grabbed the bandanna and took off with its owner in hot pursuit. Gus, with his greater size and longer stride, quickly closed the distance between them and grabbing the much smaller man, he tossed him over his shoulder and shook him like a rag doll.

"The same as you apparently," Mike huffed then shouted at the rowdy group. "Gus, be careful with Charlie! He and I have meetings next week at Langley and I don't want him all banged up — it looks bad."

The two men stood in an uncomfortable silence, watching the continuing shenanigans from their spot by the van. Soon darkness enveloped them as the sun fully set and a huge full moon rose over the buttes. It was then that Charlie, Will and Gus began gathering the children together in a circle giving them ample time to calm down and become still and quiet.

Mike leaned close to Don. "I think the show's getting ready to start," he said.

"What…?" Don started to ask.

"Eppes, just watch … if this doesn't touch you, then you have no soul."

Don turned towards his brother and his children. They were standing very still and listening to their uncle as he held their rapt attention in the way only a really good teacher can.

"Remember when I told you how great it is to sometimes be very still and to just listen and that when you do, you can often hear some wonderful things?" The mathematician asked.

"Yes Uncle Charlie, we remember," the kids nodded obviously excited and anticipating something special.

"Well, now I'm going to show you what that means but I need for you to follow my instructions very carefully. If you don't, the magic might not happen."

"Uncle Charlie, I thought you didn't like magic tricks?" Justin seemed confused.

"Oh, but this is not a trick this is REAL magic!" Charlie said seriously. "This is what I want all of you to do — when I give you the word, I want you to howl just like I taught you, howl as loud as you can!"

"Now here's the important part! When I hold up my hand like this," he held up his right hand as if stopping traffic, "I want you to stop and stay very still and very, very quiet." He smiled at the girls, "No giggling." He looked at Justin, "No talking." He turned his gaze towards the van, "No grumbling," He said a little louder. "Everyone has to be very, very quiet or no magic. Do you all understand?"

Everyone agreed and he took a breath, "Okay, now — howl!" And they did, the children and the Pack. Don and Mike stood apart enjoying the scene. Don had to laugh at the sight of his children and his brother silhouetted by the full moon, heads back howling loudly into the night.

Suddenly Charlie held up his hand — and all fell silent. For a few seconds, nothing happened then, from all around them — they answered back — each voice as individual as the humans who called out to them. Some voices were high and younger, some lower and more resonant. One kept going after the others stopped — a lone wolf crying his joy into the night. Finally — even he fell silent and there was nothing left but the wind.

"We call him Doc C after that one." Mike nodded towards Charlie. "He's smaller than the rest but he has tremendous spirit — _and_ _he always has to have the last damned word_."

Don grinned at that pronouncement. He watched as Charlie sat crossed legged on the ground and the children gathered around their uncle wrapping their arms around him. They were staring up into a sky so full of stars you could barely make out the spaces between them while Charlie pointed out planets and constellations telling the kids their names — teaching them as his mentor and dear friend, Larry had taught him when he was young.

"Doc," Gus asked, looking up into the sky, "do ya think there's folks livn' up there? You know, like on Star Trek? Do ya think they could be lookn' back at us right now?"

Don grimaced expecting a long, detailed and all too condescending lecture on the difference between _science_ and _science fiction_ but instead Charlie gazed up for a while. "Mathematicallyspeaking the odds are that out of the billions of galaxies and trillions of planets in the universe, some have to be capable of supporting life — maybe not exactly like us but …who knows what's out there." He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. "but wouldn't it be fascinating to find out!" He added reflectively.

"Guess it'd take a starship a long time to get to one of them far-away galaxies."

"Many, many lifetimes," Charlie said.

"Less'un you warped there!" Gus said brightly.

"Or used a wormhole as a shortcut through space!" Justin added.

"You know, there are scientists who speculate that may very well be possible someday." Charlie said. "And there is also a theory that there are many parallel universes containing other versions of all of us and that they are living different lives from the one's we have here."

"What do you believe, Uncle Charlie?" Amy looked at her uncle with big, bright eyes.

Charlie took a deep breath. "I think that …though we have to stay grounded in reality … speculating on what _might _be is a wonderful thing. Scientists wondering why things work the way they do is the reason we've advanced as far as we have." He patted Justin's shoulder. "There's a lot of observation, speculation and _math_ in scientific discovery — and there's a great deal of curiosity and imagination as well."

For a while, the little group said nothing then Will broke the silence. "Doc, do you think that the Charlie in any one of those other universes might be a little less … gabby?" He asked wryly. "And maybe one of those other Charlie's decided to make a change to a certain — ahhh — prominent attribute …you know … a little bit of a bob …" he reached over and waved his hand in front of Charlie's nose. "Brad Pitt's might be a good model to go by or …"

Charlie smacked Will's hand away from his face. "You do remember that I'm well versed in many things including chemistry. I could mix up a nice little concoction that can have all kinds of harmless but really nasty consequences and be virtually untraceable."

"Hey, don't get your Batman boxer shorts in a knot! I was just joking with you. I didn't mean to touch on any huge sore spots." Will held up his hands in capitulation … but he wasn't quite finished just yet. He let a few seconds pass then he piped up again. "How about Johnny Depp's or Ashton …?" And Charlie struck, shoving Will over so hard his feet went over his head causing him to do a perfect backwards roll.

…

"Do you think we need to intervene?" Don asked a little concerned as he watched Will struggle to his feet.

"Naw," Mike waved his hand dismissively, "they're fine. Jennet knows how far to push without going too far." The larger man grew pensive. He looked down and took a deep breath. "Don, it's a good thing you've done — letting Charlie be a part of your children's lives. It means the world to him, getting to do some of those daddy things he never got a chance to do with his own child." He sniffed and looked away for a second. "And … he really likes having a big brother again."

Don licked his lips and looked away. "The kids really love Charlie. I'm fairly sure they think he's one of them — and I guess having a kid brother again is … tolerable." Don smiled then closed his eyes for a second. "I worry about him, Mike. Sometimes he seems so … I don't know —fragile — and what he does when he's away… it scares me shitless."

"Eppes, don't tell him I told you this … and I'll deny the fact if you do … Charlie worries about you every bit as much as you worry about him. He wishes that you'd find a safer career than the FBI but he knows how much you love your work. He's very proud of you, Don — he always has been — and he has every confidence in your skills. _You _should have confidence in his. After all — he was trained by the very best," he added less than humbly.

"As for what we do — Rock and I have been have been thinking that maybe we've all done enough for king and country — maybe it's someone else's turn." He shrugged, "But you don't just walk away from an operation like ours so … we'll see."

Don looked down then up at the stars. "Mike," he said after a few minutes silence, "I blamed you for a lot of things that … what I'm trying to say is…"

"Eppes," the marine interrupted, "apologies kind of stick in the craw of men like us and admitting we're wrong well … let's just say that we have come to a … mutual understanding. You agree that I'm not Cobra Commander and I'll concede that you aren't Sauron. We declare an end to our … conflict and move forward with both our egos intact. "

Don smiled. "Agreed," he said. "Mike, please … look … "

"We'll always look after him Don, and just so you know, whenever he gets too big for his britches — I just play papa wolf and hold him down with my paw and nip his heels a few times until he behaves." He patted the agent's shoulder reassuringly then he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Don. "Here, this is for you. Don't say I never gave you anything."

"What's this?" Don asked as he read what was obviously a phone number.

"That's a way to get hold of us in case something happens to your father or Robin or one of the kids," he said. "Fewer than ten people in the world have access to that number so keep it to yourself … and when you give it to Robin … and don't give me that look, I know you will, tell her to keep it to herself."

Before the shocked agent had a chance to answer Mike stood up straight and stretched and yawned. "You know there is another reason I left the campfire to join you here in the dark … now what was it?" he wrinkled his brow as if he was trying to remember something important. "Oh yeah — do you know what we call this winding old path that leads out here?"

"Not a clue," Don said.

"We call it Rattlesnake Run. Now that it's dark, I'd stay closer to the fire if I were you. Oh and contrary to the way they are portrayed in the movies, they don't always rattle before they strike." He stuck his half-smoked cigar between his teeth walked away with a smirk.

A startled Don quickly followed watching the ground with every step he took.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. It's gone on a bit longer than I intended but if Charlie, Don and the guys don't want to give it up just yet.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part Eight

After consuming a hardy dinner consisting of finely diced steak, onions and beans simmered in a savory sauce and served over flatbread, the campers relaxed around the blazing fire. The adults enjoyed a pot of fresh coffee while the children sipped cups of hot chocolate — all except Justin that is, who elected to forgo the sweet treat, opting instead for a cup of tea just like his Uncle Charlie.

To everyone's vast amusement, having 'tea' had become a nightly ritual between Charlie and his young nephew. They would sit discussing math or science over cups of hot Earl Grey until the boy's bedtime. Of course, Justin's cup was actually filled with warm milk spiked with a small spoonful of tea from his uncle's mug — tea, which the math professor insisted, had to be prepared with _boiling_ water, not merely hot, and steeped exactly _three_ minutes.

_'Still as finicky as a housecat,' Don_ thought and sat his empty mug down. He subtly glanced at his watch then at his children. It had been a very full day for all of them and he could see the little ones were exhausted but he knew that as soon as he mentioned bedtime, they would be miraculously wide-awake and begging to stay up for 'just one more hour'.

"Kids," he said firmly, "I hate to say it but, it's almost bedtime," and before the plaintive 'please Daddy's' could begin, he hurried on, "but I think we can squeeze in one more song if Uncle Will and Uncle Gus are willing."

"Or maybe Uncle Charlie can tell us a story!" Amanda piped up.

Don felt his oldest stiffen beside him as if something he had been dreading was quickly coming to pass. Justin clutched a battered spiral notebook to his chest and looked at his uncle with trepidation.

Charlie shook his head, "No, tonight someone _else_ is going to have that honor. Justin has been working on a story of his own for a long time. He finished it today and he's going to read it to us." Charlie nodded at the boy who snuggled closer to his father and looked up, blinking nervously.

For a moment, it looked as if the all but quivering boy might back out but Charlie was not going to allow that — he nodded again this time more firmly and using his no nonsense Prof. Eppes voice he said, "Go ahead, Justin. Your dad really wants to hear your story — we all do, don't we guys?"

Don slipped his arm around the small boy, "Please son … I'd really like to hear it."

"Yeah, come on Justin," Mike exclaimed. "After what those two just did to poor Hank's _Your Cheatin' Heart,_ your story will be a breath of fresh air!" Everyone else around the campfire shouted and clapped in encouragement.

The timid boy gave his uncle one last pleading glance but it was clear there would be no reprieve. He opened his notebook and in a shaky voice, began to read. After he finished, his father and his sisters hugged him, and the men gently slapped him on the back.

"That was fantastic, son! I guess math is not the only talent you inherited from your uncle." Don's eyes glowed with fatherly pride.

Justin looked up at his father with absolute, unabashed joy. "I was scared you wouldn't like it but Uncle Charlie said you would and he helped me to put some of it in order and…and…he says someday we can colapa co lap a!"

"Collaborate," Don pulled his son into his lap and kissed the top of his head. He smiled at the man sitting across from him mouthing the words, _'Thank you, buddy!_' with heart-felt gratitude.

Charlie smiled back, his eyes resting for an instant on the little boy so proudly showing his father and his sisters his notebook. Then he shifted his gaze to the dancing, crackling orange and blue flames of the campfire. His expression was distant, wistful and touched with melancholy … until Mike punched him in the upper arm bringing him back into the present and the two of them began talking quietly among themselves.

For a few minutes, Don watched Charlie and the men he called his Pack. Suddenly it dawned on him that even with all of his accomplishments, his wealth, his fame, his astounding mind, and, even though he traveled the world at his leisure and had stood in some of the most remote, and beautiful places on the face of the earth, at the end of the day — Charlie Eppes was very much alone.

Don blinked back tears. Were they tears of sadness for his brother or tears of joy for his son … or both? He wasn't sure. He cleared his throat, gathered the rest of his little family up in his arms, and kissed them one by one. He then excused himself so he could help them get ready for bed and tuck them in their sleeping bags. As he listened to their drowsy, childish chatter, their 'I love you, Daddy's', their sweet little prayers — Don Eppes felt like the world's most fortunate man.

…

The mathematician looked up as Mike Donovan held out the black enamel coffee pot. He dumped out his now cold tea and raised his cup. Mike filled it with the last of the rich, strong brew then he settled down next to his friend.

"It's been an interesting week," the marine said settling back, stretching out his long legs and taking a sip of his own coffee.

"At first, I thought it was going to be a disaster of biblical proportions. I wasn't sure that you weren't going to smite Don with the jawbone of an ass or he wasn't going to turn you into a pillar of salt but in the end, it turned out okay. I'm calling the week a success." Charlie tapped his coffee cup with his index finger a few times. He gazed into the campfire then he let out a heavy sigh. "Soooo — what were the two of you talking about while you were huddled together by the van acting so damned chummy?"

"Nothing deep or sinister, Rock, we just talked about you, the fact you're both concerned about the others welfare and — cabbages and kings —you know … the usual." Mike turned his gray eyes towards the heavens for a second, "Oh and I warned him to stay close to the campfire because of the rattlers."

"Mike — there aren't any rattlesnakes around here. We're too high up and it's too cold for most of the year. They keep themselves over by the timberlands where the terrain is more to their liking and it's warmer." Charlie pointed out with narrow eyes. "Are you screwing with my big brother's head?"

"Hey, if he's gonna hang with happy group he'd better get used to our sense of humor. You know we're always busting on each other — it's a sign of affection. Besides, I've seen a snake or two in this area. Reptiles don't watch The Nature Channel, you know … they don't follow Dr. Eppes' rule book. In fact, I saw one just over there a couple of hours ago." He nodded towards the vehicle.

And at that moment Will — who had surreptitiously crept behind Charlie while Mike so cleverly distracted him — did a terrifyingly dead-on impress of a rattlesnake's early warning system and poked the smaller man in the side with a stick.

Charlie threw his coffee mug, flew to his feet and let out a wild screech worthy of a slasher movie scream queen as he scrambled wildly to escape the non-existent venomous serpent. He stood a few feet away from the group, trembling and pale as a ghost as his friends collapsed on each in hysterical laughter.

"You sons of a …" he panted as his heart pounded in his chest. "I should…damn all of you…you, God, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

At his brother's cry of terror, a frantic Don Eppes — wishing he had his trusted Glock — dashed from the cabin only to see a kicking, furious Charlie being restrained by Gus while Will bobbed and weaved waving the stick and making very convincing snake sounds while Mike stood nearby doubled over in laughter.

The marine stumbled towards Don. Wiping his streaming eyes, he rested his hand on the agent's shoulder and choking out the words between fits of laughter, he explained the hullabaloo and Don had to smile.

As was his way, Mike didn't exactly spell everything out in so many words, but Don could read between the lines of what he _did_ say. These men knew his mercurial brother as well, if not better, than anyone else did. They had picked up on the signs that Charlie was about to sink into one of his black moods so they acted quickly — if somewhat drastically — to 'head it off at the pass' as the saying goes and they had obviously succeeded.

As Don watched the Pack good-naturedly tousle their victim's curly hair and tease him unmercifully as he laughed and punched at them, he felt strangely comforted. They were indeed brothers … they were indeed family and — for good or ill — they would be there for each other no matter where life took them.

…

Later, the exhausted children safely tucked away and sleeping the sleep of the innocent, the five men sat by the lake staring out over the water, passing around a flask of Old No. Seven. The campfire had burned down to glowing embers and the moon was now high in the sky.

Don heard the cry of a large bird of prey — a night-hunter — as it soared far above their heads and in the distance, the mournful yelps of a coyote rang out. The flask was once again passed his way and once again — thinking of his sleeping children — he passed it on to Mike without indulging.

"Last time I camped out here … I seen the ghost." Gus said quietly

Charlie only let out a long-suffering sigh and said nothing.

"It was early September. Already there was a icy bite in the air an' a heavy fog rose off the lake. Just afore dawn it was, an' I seen the shape of his ol' canoe floatn' way over there where the water's the darkest an' the deepest. Clear as day, I saw the red glow of his hand-rolled movin' back an' forth like he was smokn' it then and there." The big man took a sip from the flask and handed it to Will.

"You probably just saw the reflection of your campfire or of a star or even an aircraft passing overhead. There's a dozen things you could have seen besides a … ghost." Charlie said. "_There - Are -No - Such things - As - Ghosts!"_

"Hate to differ with you there, Mr. Science Guy, but I've seen him too … more than once." Will took a pull on the flask.

"The lake's haunted," Mike answered Don's unspoken question. "Will, why don't you tell Don the Legend of Dead Man's Lake." He took a drink from the flask and handed it to Charlie. "And I've seen him too, Smartass."

"I guess I can do that," Will said, "now that the little ones are asleep."

Picking up a stick, he drew little circles in the dirt, "When I was a boy, my father and grandfather used to bring me up here to go fishing and hunting. After dinner we'd sit around the campfire and Grandpa Jennet would tell us stories about the Old West."

He smiled reflectively. "Grandpa was a great old guy … among the last of the old timey cowboys and like them, he was good at weaving a yarn. You could almost see the Younger brothers, Frank and Jessie James, the Earp's, and Doc Holliday as he related their adventures."

"One night he told me the tale of John Wesley Hardin in graphic, gory, detail and how he shot dead some poor bastard sleeping in the next room in a hotel just for snorin' too loud." He took the flask Gus handed him took a drink and handed it to Charlie.

"It was just before dawn and after having spent the night shut up in a tent listening to Dad and Grandpa making sounds reminiscent of those produced by a lumber yard buzz saw and an old asthmatic bull … I kind of felt a kinship with old John Wesley!" He chuckled. "I finally decided to bring my sleeping bag down here by the water where it was quiet."

"At first I didn't see anything except the early morning fog — then I saw the shadow of a small boat floating just were the lake bends and the water gets still and real deep. I could see the faint red glow of a cigarette moving as if someone placed it between their lips then took it out again." Will paused for a moment and frowned. "I've seen a lot of nasty things in my life but I don't mind confessing that seeing that cigarette gives me the chills every time."

"I started to yell for my dad to alert him that we had a trespasser but before I could, I heard horses off in the dark, their hooves pounding the earth at a full gallop, growing closer. I looked back towards the rise but I didn't see anything — then, just as clear as a bell, a shot rang out. I heard the splash of something hitting the water and it got real quiet." He looked up.

"Well, I started hollering at the top of my lungs and Dad and Grandpa came running dressed in their long-johns and with their Winchesters at the ready. I told 'em what I'd seen expecting them to tell me I'd had a bad dream but instead they sat me down and told me it was time I learned the family legend. At first I thought it was just another of Grandpa's fables but I soon discovered it was true and that most of it was culled from diaries and entries in the old family bible by the very people involved and handed down from one generation of Jennets to the next." He looked out over the lake as if remembering something from long ago. "Anyways — here it is exactly as Grandpa Jennet told it to my dad and then to me."

…

"_It was the fall of had been several raids on the homesteads around here, the men killed, the women raped, the cattle and the horses stolen. The culprit was a crazy S.O. B. who called himself Johnny Shiloh or Jack Shiloh but the name he was given when he was born on a frosty fall morning in Sevierville, Tennessee was John Able Patterson. He took the surname Shiloh for himself after the battle of the same name." _

"_They say he was a good man once, a farmer with a wife and a child until the War came and took it all away. Afterwards, with no family — no land and a heart full of nothing except hate, he joined up with Quantrill to fight those that had stolen his life. He participated in the massacre at Lawrence, Kansas and he rode with Bloody Bill Anderson for a while. He was, in fact, one of the eighty men with him at Centralia but he deserted shortly after. No one knows for sure why … maybe that carnage was too much for even his sort or maybe he was simply weary of the War and could smell the foul stench of defeat in the air … the why's don't matter I guess." _

_"After his desertion, Johnny headed south to Sonora, Mexico where he spent a year or so before making his way north again through Texas and Arizona. As the years passed, he built a reputation as a shooter taking jobs in frontier towns sometimes on one side of the law … sometimes on the other. It depended on how much money was bein' offered and what benefited him the most at any given moment. It was during this time that he began to gather a band of followers. Some were deserters from the Confederate Army like himself, some were deserters from the US Calvary and some were just plain bad." _

"_It was from one of these that he got the piece that was to become his trademark … a single action Schofield with custom grips made from polished elk horn. There are a couple of stories as to how he got the gun — the generally accepted one being that after sleeping off a night of women, opium and whiskey, he was in a foul mood. One of his own men was unfortunate enough to get on his bad side and ended up with a .44 Colt to the back of the head. He took the man's piece as a trophy and he and his remaining men headed out with a posse on their asses. They never caught up to 'em. Johnny was a lucky man at that time." _

_"Over the next couple of years, Johnny and his riders made their way north, running from the Pinkerton's, local law dogs, ranchers and other shooters looking to make a name for themselves, until he reached this area. It was fall, just before dawn and my great, great Grandpa Jake took his little boat out on the lake to have a smoke and catch a few fish for breakfast. My guess is he probably also wanted to grab a couple of hours of solitude before the day began. You can see how small the cabin is now, well back then it was even smaller and he shared it with his wife, Lucy, her father and eight children. He'd been out there for about two hours when Johnny and his gang came riding over that rise just behind us. He shot Jake dead and that was when his luck ran out." _

_"The Jennet family has never been the kind to cower in the shadows or to scare easily. The old man took out a couple of the bastards with the old Sharps rifle he'd brought West with him from Georgia after the War. The boys fired down on them from the loft through those slits you see near the roof with their squirrel rifles and Lucy, she held her own with a shotgun she kept in the cook shed." _

"_While the rest of the family kept the sons of bitches busy, Little Jake crept out of the back, hopped on one of the horses and rode to the Masterson place that once stood where my house is now. Dan Masterson and eight of his best hands came riding as fast as they could but by then Johnny and what was left of his gang had taken Jake's horses and a few head of cattle and headed for the timberlands to the west where he thought he could hide out for a while. He was wrong … Masterson and the posse caught up with 'em within a couple of days' time." _

_He paused for a second. "They had hard justice out here then … hard and swift. They held a trial right then and there which consisted mainly of everyone agreeing the culprits were guilty and everyone agreeing they needed hanging. The sentence was carried out that same afternoon and that was the end of Johnny Shiloh and his boys." _

"_Dan Masterson, who was a lonely man with no wife or kids of his own, offered Lucy Jennet, her father and her young ones a place on his ranch but — Jennet's being a stubborn lot — they decided they wanted to try and make a go of the homestead because that was what Jake would have wanted. They placed a cross with Jake's name carved into it at the top of the hill and said the words over it and did the best they could to carry on. The old cross is still there in the churchyard, as you saw for yourself today." _

"_The winter that followed Jake's death was a bad one, Lucy lost her father and two of her children before Christmas and by February, she knew she couldn't go it alone anymore. She accepted Masterson's offer of sanctuary and they were married the following summer. It was the in the fall after the wedding that the ghost was first seen. It was spotted by one of the Masterson hands while he was rounding up strays by the lake and the legend was born. Over the years, many people have claimed to hear the thunder of hooves coming over that rise, and the crack of gunfire. Some have heard the laughter of the little girls who died that winter and many have seen the shadow of the canoe and the glow of Jake's hand-rolled." _

…

The pilot sniffed and leaned back against his bedroll and gazed up into the sky. "That's the story my father and my grandfather told me when I was no bigger than Justin is now. It scared the hell out of me then which is why I warned everyone not to mention ghosts and haunted lakes to your kids."

"I'm grateful for that." Don said. "The last thing I need is three children waking up with nightmares." He causally glanced out over the dark lake.

"You don't see him until just before dawn." Mike said after a long pause.

"I wasn't looking for … ahhh," Don blushed at having been caught looking for signs of a ghost.

And Charlie let out yet another long-suffering sigh.

For a long time they said nothing more and the night moved around them. Gus was the first to break the silence by clearing his throat and nervously muttering, "Ahhh, Doc, I've been thinkin'… I've been thinkin' 'bout Miss Gina."

"What about Gina?" Charlie asked.

"Well, we've … I just was thinkin' maybe … maybe I'd like ta' ask her out on real date like maybe out ta' dinner and such but … I'm … do ya' think she'd go, if I asked her I mean?"

"Yeah, Gus I think she'll go out with you. I'll even help you get a good table at Emilio's if you like — the romantic one in the little alcove. Emilio reserves that one for his special guests but if I ask, I'm sure he'll give it to you." Charlie said.

"That's kind of ya, Doc; I think I will ask her out real soon afore I lose my nerve."

The corners of the mathematician's mouth turned up in the slightest hint of a smile. "Good. I think she'll like that."

Don saw Mike's head slowly swivel towards Charlie. He gave the smaller man a long hard look then he turned his gaze back towards the sky with an exasperated roll of his gray eyes.

The city-dwelling agent sighed and looked up at the stars thinking that —haunted or not — it was very pleasant laying there in the open air feeling the cool night breeze on his face. The gentle, rhythmic splash of the water against the shore was almost hypnotic. It was so hypnotic in fact, that the next thing he knew, he had sprung bolt upright with a shout and a loud snort — jerking himself from a half-remembered dream of marauding desperadoes and the glowing tips of disembodied cigarettes floating over the dark water.

More than a little embarrassed, Don ran his hands through his short hair and rose to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head. "Okay, I think it's time I say goodnight before I fall in the lake," he yawned.

"Goodnight Don," Charlie said. "See you tomorrow."

"'night Eppes," Mike said laying back and closing his eyes.

Don scanned the lake one more time then headed into the cabin to join his children.

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. It's gone on a bit longer than I intended but if Charlie, Don and the guys don't want to give it up just yet.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part 9

Don Eppes groaned as three pairs of eager little hands tugged at his own larger ones rousing him from a fitful sleep. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was 7AM — far too early for anyone to be so active and so cheerful.

"Come on, Daddy, Uncle Will and Uncle Mike are cooking breakfast and it's almost time to eat!" Justin shouted.

The girls loudly agreed and added, "Daddy, hurry and get up! It's our last day at the camp and we don't want to miss anything!"

"Kids — please — give me a second!" The sluggish agent mumbled as he sat up. He ran his hands through his hair and licked his lips.

Don took a few minutes to gather his strength then he dragged himself to his feet, shuffled to the bathroom for a quick shower that he hoped would clear his foggy brain, ran a razor over his stubble and put on some clean clothes.

He emerged from the small bathroom to find the children gathered by the front door waiting impatiently for their father who was, judging by the looks he was receiving, taking way too long in getting ready!

Don halfheartedly opened the cabin door and the girls and Justin charged out ahead of him, darting and jumping like three young springboks racing across the Kalahari. Their father however, squeezed his eyes shut against the early morning sun and taking a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, he shoved them on his face then rubbed the back of his neck and slowly moved his head from side to side in an effort to work out the kinks.

He heaved a heavy sigh which quickly turned into a cringe when Amy suddenly let out a piercing shriek prompted by a well-meaning Justin, who held a fascinating — at least to the inquisitive boy's point of view — iridescent green beetle a few inches from her face. The problem with _that _was that Amy wanted no part of any kind of insect no matter how pretty her silly brother thought it was!

Soon the children … egged on in part by Gus … were shouting and running in circles chasing each other and laughing. Their exhausted father, who had managed to fall asleep only an hour before he had been forced to get up, inwardly groaned and did battle against the urge to engage his most forceful federal officer voice and bring order and blessed silence to the ensuing chaos — at least until a more decent hour — say about noon or so.

It was a battle he was already just barely winning when he found himself confronted with the proverbial straw that nearly broke the camel's back. And the bearer of that straw was not his noisy, exuberant little ones or an even louder Gus. No — the cause of his near-defeat on that bright, clear summer morning — was his little brother who — despite his astounding mathematical and scientific prowess — sometimes didn't know when to keep his big mouth shut!

"Damn!" A broadly grinning Charlie all but snorted as he stood with his hands on hips staring at his bedraggled older brother. "I'd hate to think what you'd look like if you actually drank last night!"

Don felt his eyes narrow and his teeth clamped together hard enough to make his jaw hurt. "Shut up Chuck," The surly agent growled and plopped himself onto a folding camp chair ignoring Charlie's frown at being referred to by the hated nickname of 'Chuck'. "Thanks to that cowboy's damned story, I could barely sleep. I half expected some gun-toting, cigarette smoking apparition from hell to kick down the door at any second."

At least that was his _official_ explanation for his rag-tag appearance. What Don didn't want to admit to Charlie, the Pack or to himself, was that sleeping on a hard-wood floor — even with a sleeping bag for padding — had caused his neck and shoulders to stiffen up and his back to twinge.

Nor did he want to admit that the excesses of the past week — the rich, unfamiliar diet, the activity-packed days that began at the crack of dawn followed by late hours with the Pack — had finally caught up with him and was extracting a heavy toll in the form of horrendous indigestion, aching muscles and one endless and all-but-sleepless night.

Charlie cleared his throat and quickly wiped the smile from his face as he recalled one of the many hard-learned lessons in how to deal with his older brother. There were times when it was all right to crack a few jokes at his expense but when Don had a certain look on his face — when his lips formed a tight, thin line — discretion was most certainly, the better part of valor.

"Ahhh …wait here, I'll be right back," Charlie muttered as he turned and dashed towards the campfire.

"Please — take your time." Don grumbled as he rubbed his forehead wanting nothing more than to be left alone with his suffering.

But the younger Eppes brother didn't 'take his time' and Don was exceedingly glad that he didn't because he soon returned bearing a mug of steaming hot coffee perfectly prepared with one sugar and a little cream.

Don gratefully took the mug from his brother's outstretched hand in both of his and took a sip. "Buddy … you are a saint!" He whispered.

Charlie smiled gently, "Well, there's plenty of coffee and breakfast is almost ready so just relax for a while. You'll feel better after you get some of Mike's eggs in your stomach."

Don harrumphed doubtfully and took a long sip of the cherished, caffeine-laden beverage that had seen him through many long, boring hours on stakeout or anxious nights walking the floor with a sick child. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, an unmistakable herald of an impending headache. Then, as if he wasn't miserable enough, another voice echoed through the morning air.

"Chow's ready!" Mike Donovan shouted as he removed the cast-iron skillet from the fire — and to make sure he had everyone's attention — especially Don's — he pounded on a pan with the spatula.

Don grimaced. "I'm really gonna kick that man's ass someday," he thought and took another sip of his coffee.

Charlie, knowing Don was in no mood to stand in a chow-line no matter how short, took mercy on his brother by fixing him a plate and delivering it to his chair along with a refill for his near empty mug and a couple of Advil.

"Again — you are a saint," Don muttered as he downed the pills.

"Eat your breakfast while it's hot and then, if you still don't feel any better, we'll watch the kids and you can catch another couple of hours sleep." Charlie sympathetically patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go grab some food while there's still some left. If you need anything, just call me." He said and turned to join the others.

Don gazed at the contents of his plate — scrambled eggs, potatoes cooked with onions and green peppers and fresh fish fillets caught in the pristine, icy lake just an hour before, expertly battered and sautéed to a golden, crispy brown. He swallowed hard wondering if anyone would notice if he found a discrete place to dump the food.

He glanced towards the campfire and saw Charlie watching him with wide concerned eyes and Don knew he had no choice but to at least take a bite or two.

Cautiously, he took one small forkful and shoved it in his mouth, which led to another, and another and before he knew it, the plate was empty, he felt ten times better, the looming headache had been averted and — oddly enough — his jumpy stomach had settled down.

With the morning meal out of the way and the chores completed, the adults relaxed while the kids played. After about an hour, the men found themselves confronted by three little ones who were now bored with each other's company and begging for something else to do — and the Pack had just the perfect thing planned.

Soon, much to the kids' great joy, they found themselves strapped into lifejackets and listening to last minute safety instructions as to how to ride in a canoe. They split into three groups, boarded the little boats, and one by one, pushed away from the dock.

"Uncle Will, how long is the ride going to last? I hope it's going to last a long time!" Justin said gripping the side of the boat and grinning at his father who was sitting at the bow expertly manning a paddle.

"Well Justin, to see the entire lake takes about 2 1/2 to 3 hours," Will said as he gently paddled and maneuvered towards the bend in the lake.

"Yeah, it's a three hour tour!" Gus cheerfully added with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"If any of you even thinks of singing the theme from _Gilligan's Island_, I will …" Mike stopped and looked around at the kids. "You'd just better not that's all I can say!"

As the three boats slowly made their way around the large lake, Will showed them why he was so in love with his little corner of the world. They saw eagles in their nests and an elk proudly sporting a huge rack of antlers on his majestic head. They were treated to the spectacle of fish jumping right out of the water, a variety of wildlife both small and large and some of the most beautiful and unspoiled countryside that Don had ever seen.

As they rounded a bend, Charlie had everyone stop their canoes and he pointed off in the distance where two dark figures, one large and one slightly smaller could be seen lumbering their way up a steep hill.

"Look, do you guys see the Black bears?" He asked.

"Yes, Uncle Charlie, we see them!" Amanda gasped.

"They're so cute!" Amy said.

"Hummm — just take my word for it," Charlie said with an odd look on his face. "Yogi and Booboo are not nearly so cute close up."

"Do I even want to know?" Don asked sounding every inch the long-suffering older brother.

"Probably not," was the answer and Charlie handed his binoculars to his bother so he could help his kids get a closer look at the bears before they disappeared from view — and then it was time to head back to camp.

As the rancher had predicted, the boat tour took almost exactly three hours. By the time the canoes were safely tied off at the dock and the lifejackets stowed in the boathouse, it was time for a quick lunch … hotdogs of course. Shortly after that, Mike made sure the campfire was completely extinguished while the others cleaned up the area. All of that accomplished, they loaded the van and headed for home.

…

Upon their arrival back at the ranch, the kids charged from the van in a noisy, excited swarm and rushed to their mother, all of them talking at the top of their lungs, interrupting each other at ever other sentence.

Justin went on and on about the cabin and getting the wolves to howl. They laughed so hard they nearly fell over as they described — in far more detail than Charlie thought necessary — about how Uncle Bear threw Uncle Charlie over his shoulder and how Uncle Charlie screamed like a girl because he thought Uncle Will was a snake.

With wide eyes, they told her about cooking hotdogs by putting them on a stick and holding them in the campfire, about taking a canoe ride and seeing an elk and eagles and even bears! Amy told her about having FISH for breakfast and how it was really good! They didn't like fish but _that _fish was great because Uncle Will caught it and cooked it himself over a campfire. Everything tasted so good cooked outside! Could they make a fire in the backyard and cook dinner over it?

Robin grinned and looked at her smirking husband who obviously wasn't going to offer her any help at all with this one. "I don't think the neighbors would like it very much if we built a campfire in the backyard but — maybe Daddy can barbeque more often — it's almost the same thing," she said hugging each of her children and giving them warm, loving, mommy kisses. "I missed you all very much but I'm glad you had a good time."

"Okay guys," Don said with a slight frown at the thought of dinner duty landing on his head more often than it already did, "you can tell Mommy all about the camp later but right now you need to help your uncles unpack the van. When that's finished, we need to make sure we get all our bags packed and ready to go because we have to leave for the airport really early tomorrow morning."

"Do we have to go home?" Justin pleaded. "Can't we stay for one more day?"

"Son, I have to be back at work the day after tomorrow and so does Mommy, besides, we don't want to take advantage of Uncle Will's hospitality and I have a feeling Uncle David is about to resign as our pet sitter." Don tenderly cupped the boy's chin and ruffled his hair. "Now, go help unload the van." He kissed the top of his son's head and watched as he ran to join the others.

Don looked down as he felt little hands gripping his jeans. He scooped his youngest up in his arms and held him close cuddling him lovingly as David wrapped his little arms around his father's neck. "How was your guy-free night? Did you enjoy the hot tub?" He smiled at his wife.

Robin sighed softly. "It was one of the most peaceful evenings I've had in a long time. David fell asleep early and didn't wake up until morning. I had a delicious, peaceful dinner served with a chilled glass of Riesling and then I lit scented candles and spent an hour alone in the hot tub. It was heaven." Robin slipped her arm around Don's waist and kissed him. "How'd it go for you? Was it fun being out on the open range with 'The Riders of The Purple Sage?"

Don chuckled. "Yeah, it was fun … for the most part."

"Uh oh, what happened?" Robin's eyes narrowed. "You didn't have another fight with …"

"No, nothing like that," Don shook his head. "Let's just say that I'll be glad to get home and back to our routine. I think my back prefers our mattress to a cabin floor and my stomach prefers your food to this cowboy stuff."

Robin chuckled softly. "Poor baby," she whispered and kissed his cheek.

…

Later, the camping gear stowed and most of their own luggage, except for a small carry-on bag, packed and loaded in the van, the adults took the rest of the afternoon to unwind while the children played with the dogs and spent a couple of hours on the tire swing Gus had built for them.

Dinner that night was simple, casual fare and the little group lingered over the good food and conversation. Afterwards, the kids and Robin went to bed early since they had to get up before dawn the next morning.

The men sat around the living room for a few minutes more until Mike Donovan stood up and announced rather loudly and abruptly that he was in the mood for a few beers and a Stallone Fest. "Boys, what say we leave the Brothers Eppes to enjoy a little sibling-bonding time and we can indulge in a little Rambo Time."

"Sounds good," Will said. "Gus, you grab the beer and I'll pop the corn."

Mike gave Charlie a slap on the back and headed off to the basement with Will and Gus at his heels.

"He's such a — subtle man, isn't he?" The mathematician muttered with a roll of his eyes then he glanced at Don. "Want to join me on the porch for a little — sibling-bonding time?" He asked.

Don agreed and followed his brother out into the quiet dark of the evening.

Charlie settled on one side of the old porch swing and Don took the other. For a while, they sat in silence listening to the wind, which had picked up considerably over the last hour and the temperature had dipped a few degrees. From the barn, they could hear the rhythmic clink of metal hitting metal with each gust and from the stables, the restless whinnying of horses floated in on the brisk breeze.

"It's going to storm tonight," Charlie motioned towards the mountains that rose to the west. Don could see a flash of lightening and he heard the distant rumble of thunder. "I'd say we have about thirty or forty minutes before it reaches us."

Don nodded and watched as another brilliant streak filled the distant, blue-black sky putting on a magnificent display. "Charlie," Don said, "this week has been fantastic. I'm very grateful to you and to your friends for all you've done. I don't think the kids will ever forget it."

Charlie smiled. "It's been a lot of fun for us too — more than you know. Hell, Gus has had the time of his life. Inside, he's just a little kid — a really huge little kid."

"Oh … so _Gus_ is the little kid and the rest of you are all so damned grown up and mature," Don grinned.

The mathematician blushed slightly, looked away for a second and shrugged his shoulders.

"You know — there is one thing about this week that could have been better." Don looked at his hands for a second then towards his brother who was watching him closely. "We've been so busy trying to stuff everything possible into every day that I feel like you and I have had almost no time at all to just … talk."

Charlie blinked a couple of times, "We have time now, so — you first, what do you want to talk about?" He cocked his head to the side waiting for Don to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

Don took a moment then he spoke in slow, measured words. "Charlie … in the months since we ran into each in that airport … I've spent a lot of time thinking about us and what I really want from this relationship." Don could feel dark eyes boring into the side of his head. He hesitated hoping that the words he was using were the right words.

Charlie said nothing; he only sat very still listening to his brother as he struggled to express himself.

Don took a deep breath."Things between us have never been easy, have they … not even when we were kids? Our relationship has never been simple."

"No, Don, things have never been — easy or simple for us," he said.

Don turned and looked at the man sitting beside him. "What I'm trying to say to you is that whatever _you_ may have done or _I_ may have done in the past, you're important to me _now._ I'm thankful that you're back in my life — and not just as a favorite uncle to my kids or as some secret benefactor during hard times — but as a brother to me and as a close and cherished friend. I _want_ things to be — easy — for us, buddy. I _need_ for things to be — simple."

Charlie took a deep breath and looked out towards the storm gathering on the horizon. "Don — I haven't seen a lot of happy endings in recent years. My life is far more … Cormac McCarthy than Nickolas Sparks. Running in to you on New Year's Eve was — serendipitous to say the least and, I have to confess, not at all welcome. The timing seemed extraordinarily bad and almost cruel." He turned his eyes towards his bother.

"Coming home that first time was more difficult than you can imagine. I almost didn't go but I'll always be glad that I did. Reconnecting with you and being a part of your family is the best thing that has happened to me in a long damned time. I'm happy that you're all in my life and I'm proud to call you my brother and my dearest friend." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he touched his brother's wrist. "I think I can do _easy,_ big brother, and I can do _simple_."

Don smiled and leaned back in the swing. "Do you think we could have gotten maudlin just now?" He asked with a chuckle.

"I guess we could have fallen into each other's arms weeping." Charlie noted.

They looked at each other for a long hard moment.

"I think we'll leave that for another time," they said in unison and looked away.

"Charlie," Don said, "We had some pretty rocky times when we were kids but it wasn't all bad. We had some good times as well. Please tell me that you remember some of the good times."

"Sure, I remember, Don. I also remember that some of the not so great times were, in retrospect, hilarious." He leaned towards Don and said with a smirk, "Do you remember that girl you were stuck on when you were twelve? She had long wavy blonde hair and smelled like vanilla."

"Oh yeah!" Don crossed his arms over his chest. "I think her name was Allison but everyone called her Allie." He let out a long nostalgic sigh. "Allie Brooks — I haven't thought about her in a long time." He turned to see his brother eyeing him with an amused look on his face.

"I don't know if you knew this or not but, Mom didn't like her at all. She was the topic of more than one conversation when you weren't around. A few of them got a bit heated because, as Mom saw it, she had flirted with Dad and that was just not acceptable. Of course, Dad didn't see it that way. He thought of her as a little girl. Mom just said that sometimes men were thick-headed."

Charlie smiled. "I'm fairly sure the folks weren't aware of the fact, but I was in the solarium during a few of those discussions and I overheard everything they said. Let me tell you — they were pretty shocked when, one night at dinner, I opened my seven year old mouth to let them know that they had a few of their facts concerning the girl incorrect."

"I don't remember that at all," Don searched his memory. "Where was I?"

"Spending the night at Steve Shaw's, I think it was his birthday or something …well anyway … the first incorrect fact I pointed out was that Mom had her name wrong. It was not Lolita — it was Allie," Charlie said matter-of-factly and Don started to break up.

"And Donnie was not in _her_ league because she didn't play baseball so she wasn't in any league at all much less _one of her own_."

"God, Charlie!" Don was laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

"And that she wasn't more advanced than our Donnie because I asked her a math question and she didn't know the answer and she told me she didn't like math or science or chess. That all she liked was buying new clothes, listening to music and trying on make-up." Charlie cut his eyes towards his laughing brother.

"Damn it, buddy!" Don snorted

"Oh, it gets better," Charlie said. "Then I told Mom that Allie wasn't faster than you 'cause you could beat her in a race any day of the week and she was really silly because she giggled too much and she laughed at all of Donnie's and Dad's jokes, even the stupid ones."

"You …" Don slid his arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Wait; there's more," Charlie held up his index finger, "I went on to say that she was also silly because she was always wearing her little sister's clothes. I could tell because her shorts were too small and tight and her skirts were so short that you could almost see her underwear. Then I said that you were a dookie head for wanting to go to the mall with her instead of playing games with me."

By now Don was wiping the tears from his streaming eyes, "And what did Mom say to _that_?" he gasped between howls.

"Nothing at first, then she called me _Charles Edward Eppes_ and sternly told me that nice little boys don't say dookie head. Naturally, Dad had to but in his two cents by adding _'not even when Don's acting like one, son._' At which point Mom snarled '_Alan' _and lightly backhanded him on the shoulder — and then we all went out for ice cream."

"Later that night I heard peals of laughter coming from their room but I had no idea what could be so hilarious!" Now Charlie was laughing along with his brother until both of them were panting and out of breath. "I just figured they were reading a funny book or something — hell, what did I know, I was just seven!"

"Oh, God Charlie, I love you — you are truly one of a kind," Don said as the laughter subsided and he could finally catch his breath.

"I guess I love you too, big bro — even when you're being a big — dookie head," Charlie said and slipping their arms around each other's shoulders, the Eppes brothers again broke down in laughter as a cleansing rain began to fall

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I own no part of Numb3rs. This is just for fun

Rated T for violence and language

This story is set six years in the future. Two brothers, long estranged, meet in an airport on New Year's Eve. One finds himself stranded far from home wanting nothing more than be with his family. The other is on his way home, wanting nothing more than to be alone with his memories on the last night of the year. He offers his stranded brother shelter and hopefully both will find peace.

Thank you for reading my little tale. Your reviews are very much appreciated.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. It's gone on a bit longer than I intended but if Charlie, Don and the guys don't want to give it up just yet.

Shelter from the Storm

Epilogue Part 10

Charlie Eppes stood quietly gazing out over the City. It had been nearly an hour since the glittering ball had dropped in Times Square once again welcoming in the New Year. Throughout the Five Boroughs, total strangers came together in the hallways of apartment buildings and in the crowded streets to welcome it with cheers, hugs and kisses as fireworks lit the night sky.

And from almost every bursting- at-the-seams, raucous club, every open doorway, every street-corner, you could hear the strains of that bitter-sweet old song Guy Lombardo made famous eons ago and no one ever seemed to tire of — on New Year's Eve at any rate.

Charlie smiled as he recalled the phone conversation that had taken place between himself and his father just a few minutes after that magical moment when one year seamlessly shifted into another. He had waited for the frenzy to die down and for his guests to dash from the chill of the terrace back into the warmth of the living room. He then pulled his mobile out of his pocket and hit his father's code on speed-dial.

It took five rings and Charlie was beginning to think he was going to have to leave a message when the elder Eppes man finally answered.

"_Son, it's great to hear from you … Happy New Year!" Alan shouted._

_Charlie could hear classic rock music blaring in the background and with it, the sounds of laughter and celebration — the din was almost deafening. It forced his father to yell in order to be heard._

_"I know you still have three hours to go but — Happy New Year to you too, Dad! Sounds like you have quite a party going on out there."_

_"The Cooper's throw this thing every year. They hire a band and set up a full bar. From what I understand, it always goes on until the wee hours." Alan said. "I thought I was going to spend the evening playing chess with Art or watching old movies but the Lawrence sisters from next door asked me to be their guest and …"_

_"So you have two dates for New Year's — and they're sisters!"Charlie exclaimed in amusement. "Way to go, Dad!" _

_Alan laughed at that remark. "So, how are things with you, Charlie? We miss you. When will we see you again?"_

_"Things are good, Dad and …" _

_"Speak up son, I can't hear you!" Alan shouted as the band revved it up to an ear-splitting decibel and inebriated partygoers seemed to be trying to drown out the band._

_"I said things are good and …"_

_"What?"__Alan bellowed.__"Sorry son, but there's just too much going on here! Maybe we should talk tomorrow when things are quieter. I'll call you or you can call me — just not too early!" Alan Eppes shouted as a woman's piercing laughter rang out. _

_"Okay, I promise not to call too early." Charlie agreed. "Hey, enjoy the party but please be careful and Dad, have fun with the sisters but — you are covered aren't you? I mean you did make a trip to the drug store for — protection didn't you? I've been reading about what goes on in those retirement places since the invention of Viagra. I wouldn't want my father to become yet another victim of the Senior Sexual Revolution." He said with a wicked smirk in his voice._

_"Charles Edward Eppes!" The older man actually sounded shocked. "This is your father you're speaking to!"_

_The younger man broke into laughter. "Sorry Dad, but I've been waiting years for a chance to make you as uncomfortable as you made Don and me when we started dating." _

_"Yeah well, those lectures were no more fun for me than they were for you. I wanted to give you a book and a video but your mother wouldn't hear of it. She said it was my job as a father to give you the 'talk' even though a lot of it was covered by the health classes in school. She wanted you boys to know how we felt about sex and she was right. Your mother was always right where you and your brother were concerned."_

_"Dad … Mom would be thrilled to know that you're happy and that you're enjoying life again. I know it's probably not my place to say so but … I just thought I'd throw that out there in case you have any doubts." _

_"Son …you …" Alan sounded like he wanted to say something more but he changed his mind. "I love you, son."_

_"I love you too, Dad. I'll call you tomorrow."_

_"But not too …"_

_"I won't call too early — goodbye, Dad." _

After he hung up, Charlie thought of the conversation he'd had with his brother a few days before when they had discussed their plans for the big night.

Don and Robin intended to welcome in the New Year as they always did, with pizza and games with their children and maybe a Disney DVD then, after the kids went to bed, the two of them would change into their PJ's, grab a bottle of Champagne and watch the entire thing on TV.

…

_"What about you, little bro? I'll bet you've been invited to some big parties." Don laughed remembering the R-rated madness of the year before. "Hey, if any hot, celebrities lose their tops, try to get a photograph. Grainger still doesn't believe me about that." _

_"Sorry to disappoint you, big bro but there is no crazy, wild party this year."_

_"Buddy … you're not spending the night alone, are you?" Don asked suddenly concerned that his brother was falling back into his old ways._

_"Not at all," Charlie answered. "The girls will be here and so will Mike, Will, Gus, Rick and his new wife and, oh yeah, Andie Dawson. She's an old friend of mine who teaches at Columbia —and before you or Dad get a chance to make something out of it; she's just a friend, nothing more. Emilio's son is catering a dinner for all of us and we'll have a few drinks and of course Champagne. We're keeping it small and relatively quiet — no celebrities and no designer tops flying from terraces, though I can't guarantee Gus' behavior after a couple of glasses of the bubbly, but I doubt you or Grainger want to see a picture of that!"_

_Don snorted and cringed at idea. "You're 100 percent right about that one." He paused for a moment. "Take care of yourself Charlie and … on New Year's Eve, if you need … if you feel … well, you know what I'm trying to say." _

_Charlie could picture Don crinkling his nose and running his hand through his short well-groomed hair just as he had for years when he felt uncomfortably emotional. "I will," the younger man said. "Kiss Robin and the kids for me and … listen, you take of yourself, Don. I've kind of gotten used to having a big brother again."_

_"I will and you take care of yourself as well. Eat better, get more rest, work a little less — don't make me get Donovan to kick your ass 'cause he'll do it. We're buds now, you know." Don said, "Goodbye, Charlie. Pay us a visit soon. The kids miss you. We … we love you, buddy."_

_"Stop treating me like I'm ten." Charlie chuckled. "Goodbye, Don — and I'll try. I love you guys, too." he said and hung up. _

…

Standing in the subfreezing winds of a winter's night Charlie felt warm to his very core as he remembered those four simple words from his older brother: '_We love you, buddy.'_

And then his sentimental thoughts of Don were interrupted by a burst of Alexia's laughter followed by the lighthearted howls of the rest of his guests and the yapping of a small dog. He glanced back at his friends gathered in the sitting area in front of the fireplace.

His New Year's Eve party, unlike Alexia's previous affairs, wasn't a celebrity-laced bacchanal, but it had been an enjoyable evening none-the-less. What it lacked in debauchery, it made for it in good food and good company. Admittedly, they had all had a bit too much to drink, but no one was extremely drunkor out of control, no one was driving anywhere, and no one was going to shed any articles of clothing — not even Gus.

Charlie grinned and rubbed his eyes shaking his head in amusement at the perhaps pathetic, but undeniable fact that the only Eppes man truly partying down and blowing it all out on this New Year's Eve was — Alan Eppes!

Suddenly Charlie was forced from his pleasant reveries about his family by an arm as it slowly slid around his waist like a slender, bejeweled serpent.

"Hey, baby," the beautiful woman softly cooed and handed him a glass of Champagne. "Everyone is so lovey-dovey in there; I was beginning to feel like an absolute voyeur."

"I told you it was alright to bring a date," Charlie chided. "In fact, I think I encouraged it."

She frowned. "My sweet Charlie, I wouldn't inflict the men I know on the people I love." She theatrically looked around the terrace then she looked into his dark eyes, "Besides, I don't see a date on _your_ arm either."

Charlie smiled at this newest incarnation of Destiny. She was, as she had always been ever since he had known her, beautiful, exotic and totally unique — and she had established a new avatar for the coming year.

She had allowed her bobbed hair to grow until tumbled past her shoulders in wild ringlets. Now she was far more Theda Bara than Zelda Fitzgerald —the Jazz Age flapper had given way to the Vamp. She stood close to him, took a sip of her Champagne and shivered as a gust of icy wind blew across the terrace.

"Here," Charlie slipped off his leather jacket and placed it over her pale, powdered and perfumed shoulders, "take this, you're going to freeze out here in that flimsy dress!" He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

"Always such a perfect gentleman," she said. "There aren't many men like you anymore; you are a rare breed indeed, Charlie Eppes."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Charlie blushed at the compliment.

"I do," was her somber answer.

For a while, neither of them said a word. They simply stood and listened to the sounds of celebration from the apartments below and from nearby buildings.

"It's been a very — eventful year, hasn't it, baby?" Destiny said resting her head on his shoulder.

A gentle snow was falling and the winter wind whistled and moaned around the edges of the buildings. Charlie sighed and looked up towards the sky. His warm breath came out in a white mist as it mingled with the frigid air.

"Yeah," he said softly, "It's been an eventful year."

He closed his eyes picturing his brother standing on the terrace exactly one year ago as they took those first cautious and agonizing steps towards healing their shattered relationship.

Much had transpired as the relentless passing of the months brought them full circle. So much in fact, that it seemed almost impossible that only _one_ year had passed, and yet in others, it seemed as if it had only been weeks since he had ran into Don at the airport as a blizzard shut down most of the northeast.

The year that had just passed into history had been one of contrasts and extremes. There had been great joy and luminous, sparkling light.

Charlie was happy to be able to say that things between his brother and himself had never been better. Both of them had been able to put to rest their tumultuous past and they were building a new and far stronger relationship — one that would endure no matter what life threw at them.

Don and the Pack had settled their differences and the truce between them seemed to be holding firm. In fact, the beginnings a real friendship had taken root there, especially between Mike and Don. Charlie fully intended on nurturing that friendship, helping it to grow to its fullest potential.

His book, _Devils of the Kalahari,_ came out in time for the holidays and was an immediate best seller. Although Charlie was happy people enjoyed his latest work, for him the far more important and satisfying accomplishment came from the fact that he had published two papers in two separate peer review journals within months of each other. Both had been met with praise, even from his most adamant detractors, proving that Dr. Charles Edward Eppes was still a force to be reckoned with in the field of mathematics.

And, there was Rick Harrington. Even though he would always bear the physical scars of his injuries, and he would always walk with a noticeable limp — with the support of his friends and therapy, he had made enormous strides in overcoming his difficulties. He was doing so well, in fact, that he was helping others deal with injuries similar to his own.

His spirit and determination had captured the heart of one of the nurses at the clinic. They began seeing each other, fell in love and were soon married. The happy couple is expecting their first child in about six months — a joyous turn of event by anyone's definition of the word.

But — as with all things — where there is light, there is always darkness. The passing year had also been one of great sorrow and crushing loss.

After losing command of the organization he founded, the Colonel was never the same. He aged twenty years in less than seven. One rainy night in late September, the old man went to bed early complaining of heartburn — and he never woke up.

The official cause of death was listed as a heart attack but Charlie knew better. Guilt is a heavy load for any man. As the years pass, it weighs you down and rips at your soul. In the end, the old viper's heart just couldn't bear the burden of what he had done. It was guilt over the men he had betrayed as much as blocked arteries that killed Jeremiah Harrington.

On the last day of August — in the dead of night — Mother Nature dealt Mike Donovan a devastating blow. While most in the region peacefully slept, a series of violent storms tore through the mountains of Washington. Mike's house was struck by a strong bolt of lightning and immediately caught fire. Charlie, who was up late working on some equations for the DOD, saw the glow of the flames from the third floor bedroom of his own recently finished home.

He quickly jumped in his SUV and rushed to help. As he frantically raced along the treacherous, narrow, mountain road at a breakneck speed, he silently thanked Will Jennet and Gus for training him in tactical driving thus teaching him the skills required to reach his destination quickly and without wrapping himself around a tree or driving off a cliff.

When he arrived at the house, it was already fully engulfed. Neil manned a hose and Mike was tossing bucket after bucket of water on the flames. Without a word, Charlie ran to Mike and the two of them worked in tandem as they so often had in other situations.

Soon other neighbors arrived and the volunteer fire department but all their efforts proved futile — the house was completely destroyed in a little over an hour's time.

Later, covered in soot and ash and soaked to the bone, they sat side by side on the ground gazing at the smoldering ruin; Charlie put his arm around his friend and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Mike, I know it's too soon but …you can rebuild. I'll help you. I'll get hold of my architect and my contractors and …" he had stammered not sure what to say to his deathly silent partner.

"Of course I can rebuild, but I just …" Mike shouted and flung a charred piece of wood he'd been holding to the ground.

"It's not just the damned house, it's everything else!" His voice broke. "It's everything I'd kept from my years in the Corp, my dress blues, photographs of men I served with, my buddies, some of them now gone. There were photos of my foster mom outside of the restaurant in Detroit and there were letters from friends … all the things I can never replace! It's like my past has been wiped …" He had hung his head sobbing, his voice choked with his tears. "Can your contractors fix that, Charlie?"

Charlie swallowed and sat in silence. He knew this was something his money could not fix. All he could do was be there for his friend and help where he could. For a while, he said nothing sensing Mike needed quiet more than words of condolence.

After an hour passed, he could tell the larger man was drained, physically and emotionally. He had nothing left and they were both soaked, chilled and shivering — there was nothing more to be done that night.

"Mike," he said quietly, "look, I know I can't replace the things you lost but … I can offer you a place to stay for as long as you need it."

Mike looked out over the ruin of the home he had built with his own hands. "Four years," he said more to himself than anyone else, "This place took four years of my life to build and in only …" he whispered shaking his head. Then he sighed, exhausted beyond belief. "Are you sure, little partner? You could be stuck with me for long damned time."

He gave Mike's shoulder another squeeze. "You're my brother, stay as long as you need to, hell, move in permanently if you want." Charlie gave him a sly lift of his eyebrows. "Mi Palace, su Palace." He said.

The mathematician felt a chuckle go through Mike's tired body at his allusion to the nickname the Marine had given his home. Mike had taken one look at the architect's rendition of the sprawling abode complete with an atrium, a master bedroom that took up the entire third floor — a THIRD FLOOR — and far more floor-to-ceiling windows and glass than seemed wise and he had instantly dubbed it The Crystal Palace and the name stuck.

"I guess I'll take you up on your offer," the weary man said. "Look, if you get sick of me just say so and I'll find other accommodations. Neil offered to let me stay with him and I know I can crash at the ranch with Will or with Gus down in Florida."

"Don't worry," Charlie said. "I'm only here part of the year so it's not like we'll see each other enough for me to get sick of you."

"Bastard," Mike said and affectionately shoved his friend.

The Marine looked down at the soaked and dirty gray sweat suit and ill-fitting sneakers he was wearing — a hurried gift from a neighbor. He had been sound asleep when the lightning struck and the smoke detectors went off forcing him to run for his life in his bare feet and wearing only a tee shirt and OD green boxers. Mike let out an exhausted groan.

"Oh God, Charlie… my clothes are gone! All I have is what I'm wearing and …" He brushed at the dirt covering the wet sweatshirt.

"Not a problem, there's plenty of stuff at my place. I'm sure we can come up with something until you can get to town and buy some new things." Charlie said as they stood.

"Rock — I know that over the years I've loaned you a shirt or two and you've worn my jacket on more than one occasion. On you, my stuff looked kind of — cute — like a kid wearing his daddy's clothes but it just doesn't work the other way around, Charlie. It's not cute when a daddy tries to wear a kid's clothes."

"Mike," Charlie looked up at his friend. "I certainly didn't mean I was going to loan you my stuff. Will and Gus both left things when they were here for the house warming. You should be able to put something together." Charlie grinned. "Damn, Mike! I just flashed on you in my jeans looking like Bruce Banner just after he Hulks out."

Mike hung his head for a second then he draped his arm over the smaller man's shoulder and they walked towards Charlie's SUV. Suddenly he grabbed Charlie by both shoulders, shook him and rubbed the top of his head with his knuckles as he growled, "Hulk smell like barbequed pig. Hulk need hot shower and stiff drink."

Charlie laughed and brushed Mike's hand away. "Mike," he said as the Marine slid into the passenger seat, "It's going to be okay."

Mike nodded. "It's just that …" he looked out the window towards the smoldering rubble that had been his home.

"I know," Charlie said and they drove away into the night.

In early October, the Pack received a blow that knocked all of them off their props and reminded them of just how fragile and how fleeting life can be. Gary Wheeler woke in the middle of the night and decided he had fought his last battle.

He had heard the cry of the Ghost Pack and it was time to join them. It was time to run free. Even though the hospital had taken every precaution possible to prevent such things from happening, where there is a will, as the saying goes, there is always a way — and Gary found his way.

The hospital notified Rick, he sent the word out, and they all came. As brothers, they laid Gary to rest in the old churchyard on a hillside on Will's ranch. It was a Thursday, the morning was bright and crisp, and the leaves were shades of gold, red and orange.

They laid him beside his brothers-in-arms who had preceded him and, though they grieved, they also took a small amount of comfort in the knowledge that at last Gary was at peace — for him, the long war was finally over.

Gary's death hit Charlie especially hard. He found himself thinking of the Mountain more than he had years. He couldn't sleep or eat. He lay awake at night going over every conversation he, Gary and the others had shared and if he did fall asleep — they haunted his dreams.

He could see them sitting around the campfire at night after the day's work was finished. He heard their laughter. He heard their voices. He walked towards them meaning to join them but Gary stood up and shook his head. _'It's not your time yet_, _Doc'_ he said.

Charlie could hear the cry of wolves growing closer then fading into the distance. He looked away — only for an instant and when he turned around again — his friends were gone. He would always wake at that point feeling empty and abandoned … wondering when he could finally know peace and what it feels like to run free.

After Gary's death, Charlie and the Pack spent a lot of time together finding solace in each other's company and keeping nocturnal vigil over the sacred memories of the departed.

The subject of shutting down the operation came up often but it never got past the discussion stage. Maybe in a few weeks, they said, when the next mission was completed — but there was a mission after that one and then another and another.

A few weeks, became months and months would tumble into years — five all tolled would pass before they finally stood together in the driving rain, passing a bottle of Old No.7 feeling like they'd been running on empty for a long, long time.

"_Ya know my friends; I think we're done,"_ Mike would say.

And there would be no more missions — but the Pack, like the magnificent animals from which they took their name, would remain — bonded for life — brothers, until the last of them was laid to rest in the little churchyard on a hillside in Montana. Until the last of them finally joined the Ghost Pack and ran free.

…

It was during the weeks immediately following Gary's loss, that Charlie felt a great compulsion to return home but he knew Don and Robin were very busy with their careers and raising their children. The last thing they needed was a depressed houseguest to add to all they already had to deal with so Charlie did the next best thing — he decided to spend a little time at the apartment in Venice Beach.

He could take long walks by the ocean and bask in the warmth of the California sun. He could pass the time by watching the diverse and colorful people who called the area home — and he could try to find a way out of the miasma of sadness that was suffocating him from within.

It was towards the end of his first week in Venice that he began to regret his decision to come there at all. The first few days, the drizzly, cold rain seemed endless and even when it had passed on out to sea and the sun returned, he felt no better — if anything he felt far worse.

Charlie was sitting on his usual bench pretending to read a book wondering if he shouldn't just pack his bags and head back to New York — or to his place in Washington — or — he had no idea what he wanted to do. He only knew he felt like a lost soul in this world.

He took a deep shuddering breath and closed his eyes. A familiar figure sat down close beside him, reached out and gently took the book from his trembling hands.

TBC


End file.
